Interrupted Journeys 12: Fall into Shadow
by ellisk
Summary: As we look back on the journey of our life, certain moments stand out as ones that defined the course of that journey. These are the incidents that defined the lives of Thranduil Oropherion and Legolas Thranduilion throughout the Third and Fourth Ages. Part 12: Thranduil attempts to put an end to one source of evil in his realm.
1. Best laid plans of elves and orcs

**AN:** This is a continuation of a series of stories titled Interrupted Journeys. Parts One through Eleven have already been posted. In the case of this story, it is probably necessary to have read at least Parts Eight through Ten to understand the OCs and their motivations better and to understand the events that Thranduil is trying to manage. In fact, if you haven't read those parts, you will likely think I have a very poor understanding of Tolkien's elves. This part of the story is set in Legolas's childhood, immediately after Part Eleven. Legolas and his friends Anastor, Noruil and Brethil are near adulthood, at the age of 46. His cousin, Galithil, is a half year older then Legolas, and has just had his 47th Begetting Day. His cousin, Berior, is a year younger than Legolas, at the age of 45.

**T.A. 1987**

**Chapter 1: The best laid plans of elves and orcs**

Hooo, hooo, hoooo!

The owl's call softly filtered through the open door of Thanduil's private office from the Queen's garden outside it. Then it sounded again, more insistently.

Thranduil abandoned his reading at his desk and hurried into the garden. It did not do to keep that owl waiting, lest he rend the message he carried to pieces trying to remove it himself in his impatience. As Thranduil approached, the owl stamped his feet on the bench where he waited, hopping up and down in the process. His broad wings fluttered silently at his side as he bent over the small pouch tied to his leg, picking at it.

"Shh," Thranduil soothed. "One more moment, if you please." He reached carefully for the leather straps, neatly avoiding the bird's nipping beak. "Go find yourself a nice mouse," he said, once the pouch was in his hand. The owl did not hesitate. With one stroke of his wings, he soared into the lower branches of the beech tree in the center of the garden and began swiveling his large head in search of his reward.

Without bothering to move, Thranduil unrolled the messages the owl carried and scanned them, first one and then the other. "Good news, this," he said to himself with grim satisfaction. Then he strode back into the stronghold.

Tucking the notes into his tunic pocket, he passed through his office and straight out of the family quarters. Walking briskly, he made several turns through the twisting halls of the stronghold, until he approached an open wooden door at the end of a brightly lit corridor-the door of his wife's workshop, where she and her ladies did their weaving. A smile claimed Thranduil lips. Lindomiel's voice reached him in the corridor, telling a story that had the other ellyth in the room positively breathless with laughter. He was certain that he caught his own name near the end of her tale, but whatever else she said was drowned out by giggles.

"Dare I ask what you all find so amusing?" he asked as he stepped into the room.

Thranduil almost never ventured into Lindomiel's workshop, at least not during the day, when the other ladies were working. He was normally engaged in his own duties during those hours. But, given the messages he just received, he needed the Queen.

Some of the ladies in the workshop, the younger ones that Lindomiel had brought on when Dieneryn sailed, tensed and fell silent in reaction to his sudden appearance, their hands frozen, tangled in the warps of their looms. The others, who had been weavers since the capital was south of the mountains, also stopped working, but they burst into laughter twice as loud. Lindomiel's story must have been an interesting one, indeed. Thranduil focused on her and raised one eyebrow, struggling-and failing badly, no doubt-to hide his own amusement and appear dignified.

"I am telling stories of our courtship, nothing more," Lindomiel answered him, her face the picture of innocence, if he ignored the light that made her eyes twinkle. She arose from her loom.

Inspired by her movement, the younger ladies also began to stand, looking even more guilty, if that were possible.

"Do not disturb your work," Thranduil said quickly, gesturing for everyone to remain in place and moving to join Lindomiel at the back of the room, at the end of the row of weavers.

Lindomiel hurried around her loom to meet him.

That struck Thranduil as unusual. Speaking with her in the back of the room would clearly be more private and, therefore, preferable to speaking with her in the midst of all her ladies. Surely she must recognize that. He was further surprised when one of the most experienced weavers stood, despite his invitation to remain seated. It was immediately obvious that she had not stood out of courtesy. Like Lindomiel, she stepped into the pathway. There, she interposed herself between the king and queen, even going so far as to hold her hand in front of Thranduil's face, nearly over his eyes.

"You cannot go back there, my lord," she declared firmly.

Thranduil ceased trying and instead took a step back to regard both the weaver and Lindomiel with a bemused, somewhat exasperated expression.

"The project on my loom is a gift for you," Lindomiel explained.

Thranduil's eyes lit. "Is it now?" he asked, making an exaggerated effort to lean around the elleth before him. His wife took such pride in ensuring her gifts were always a surprise. Foiling her effort to do so had long ago become a game between them.

"It is," she affirmed, reaching his side. She took both his hands and rotated around him, turning him to put his back to her loom.

He looked over his shoulder, while pretending to pull away from her. "Just a glimpse," he teased.

"Thranduil!" she exclaimed in playful outrage, tugging on his hands.

With dramatic reluctance, he relented and faced her fully. "Not even a hint? Will you at least tell me if it is a tapestry or a garment?" he asked with a grin. "You cannot expect to keep it secret now that I know that it is here, after all."

She tightened her grip on his hands. "I will tell you nothing. Indeed, I will have this room locked until I finish it."

That made Thranduil laugh outright. "You think you can lock me out of rooms in my own stronghold?"

"I do," she replied with a serene smile and absolutely no hesitation. Or doubt.

Some of the younger ellyth laughed nervously.

Thranduil raised one of her hands to his lips. "I would never dream of challenging you, my lady," he said. "I promise not to peek at your gift until it is off the loom."

"But you are brought to that promise only to avoid the indignity of being barred from any part of this stronghold and, even then, you limit your promise to the completion of the project. After that, anything goes, I suppose," she said, still smiling.

He nodded. "Of course."

Lindomiel laughed and leaned to whisper into his ear. "You are a villain, meleth. I shall stop making presents for you if you do not amend your ways." She concluded that threat by kissing his cheek.

He pressed his cheek against hers to arrest her movement away from him and to whisper in her ear in turn. "Your threats do not frighten me," he breathed, quietly enough to be certain no one would overhear him. "I am fairly certain I know how to regain your good graces."

"Prove it," Lindomiel whispered back in a tone of voice that made Thranduil very thankful no one else could have heard her and regretful that he still had a considerable amount of work to do before he could accept that challenge. His regret must have been written on his face. She led him a few steps away, closer to the door, and her expression grew more serious. "I doubt that you came here, personally, rather than sending a servant, to peek at presents that you did not yet know existed," she prompted.

"Indeed not," he replied. "I fear that I must request your presence in the Hall. I have messages from the south. There are decisions to be made and I want you there to help make them."

She nodded. "Give me a few moments? To find a better stopping place than the middle of the pattern I am weaving?"

"Of course," Thranduil replied, again kissing her hand. "It will take Hallion and I that long to call everyone else to the Hall."

"I will be there as quickly as I can," she assured him.

Despite the gravity of that business, Thranduil laughed when Lindomiel escorted him all the way to the door of the workshop and closed it after him.

* * *

From Lindomiel's workshop, Thranduil made straight for the passage that housed his advisors' offices, to find his steward and enlist his help to gather the rest of the Council. That request, and the messages Thranduil showed him, sent Hallion rushing behind the tapestry across from his office and through the secret door that led into the Great Hall. For his part, Thranduil went to the office next door to Hallion's-the Troop Commander's office-in order to give Dolgailon the opportunity to see the messages before the others on the council.

His eyebrows went up when Galithil, not Dolgailon, rose from the chair behind the desk. He was sorting through troop reports from the looks of it.

"May I help you, my lord," he asked with a slight frown. Like the ladies in the Queen's workshop, he was clearly surprised to see the King wandering about the stronghold in the mid-day.

"I was looking for Dolgailon. And you," Thranduil responded, glancing around the office and then stepping closer to the desk to peer at the papers Galithil had been organizing. They were indeed troop reports, along with a map of the forest. Galithil was mapping the latest orc and spider encounters, it seemed. "Do you know where he might be?"

"On the training fields," Galithil answered. "Promoting Sidhion."

That made Thranduil blink. Promoting Sidhion? On the training field? Sidhion was already a lieutenant. One of the lieutenants of the Palace Guard, not the Training Program. Dollion was the Guard's captain and Thranduil wanted him to remain its captain. They had only just given Dollion special duties that Dolgailon knew perfectly well Thranduil entrusted only to him. Thranduil could not imagine how Dolgailon meant to reorder the Guard's command structure, why he would be doing it now, of all times, or what any of that had to do with the training field.

"Sidhion is to be the new captain of the Training Program," Galithil explained, in response to Thranduil's confusion.

Making Sidhion the Training Program's captain made little more sense than making him the Palace Guard's captain, at least in Thranduil's mind. "Sidhion has never worked with the Training Program," he said.

"That is not entirely true," Galithil replied. "When the Palace Guard is sent to support one of the patrols, the Sixth Years take the Guard's duty and so come under Sidhion's command. And even when the Palace Guard has its full complement of warriors, the Sixth Years take patrols with them, as well as the Path Guard, so Sidhion interacts with the Training Program regularly. And everyone likes him. He is...very diplomatic. He solves conflicts rather than instigating them."

Thranduil snorted in amusement. "And is that an important qualification for the captain of the Training Program?"

"The Training Program's purpose is to take young elves, who are often...less wise than they should be, and make them into warriors that will understand and respect the command structure. So, yes, the ability to teach and earn that respect is important," Galithil responded. Then he looked at Thranduil sidelong. "Langon was your swords master, was he not? He is very good at teaching warriors to fight with bladed weapons, but do you honestly believe that he could teach respect? Especially here in this forest?"

Laughing, Thranduil dropped into one of the chairs in front of Dolgailon's desk and gestured for Galithil to reseat himself. "Anyone would make a better captain, in your judgment, than Langon, then? Is that what you are saying?"

"Yes," Galithil answered bluntly. "But Sidhion really does make sense," he continued. "Pathon and Hebor are not much more experienced in command than the last time they were passed over for promotion, the last time the Training Program needed a new captain, so they will not do. And Tirithion and Langon are still too ill-tempered to be captains. Even if Dolgailon did promote one of them, he would still need to bring someone else into the Program as an officer to replace Glilavan. Sidhion has been a lieutenant for over half a yen, he knows the workings of the Training Program, he will not need to move himself or his family to take command of it since he already lives near the stronghold, and there are plenty of warriors in the Palace Guard or Path Guard ready for promotion, so he will be easily replaced in his current position. He is a logical choice."

Thranduil's brows climbed. That was certainly a thorough analysis. Dolgailon's, no doubt. Thranduil agreed with it and even if he did not, he would not challenge it, providing Dollion was staying in place. Dolgailon was the Troop Commander because Thranduil trusted him in that duty. Still, he was not entirely comfortable with how much he shared with his younger brother. Especially since Galithil was Pathon, Hebor, Tirithion and Langon's subordinate.

"I trust that you would not repeat that reasoning, especially the first part of it, in your officers' presence," he said. It was not a question or even a warning. He did trust that, else Galithil would not serve the Troop Commander's office or the Ruling Council in any capacity. "Still, I cannot help but wonder if your reactions to your officers are not influenced, at least somewhat, by hearing such evaluations of their strengths and weaknesses."

Galithil shrugged. "My lord, I think all my cousins and I have had enough direct interaction with those in authority to have formed our own very well reasoned opinions of the qualities that contribute to good or poor leadership," he responded dryly. "Naturally we will apply those opinions when judging those who command us, such as our officers. Every warrior does judge his officers, after all."

Thranduil smiled. "But every warrior is not privy to the Troop Commander's own evaluation of those officers."

"Nor is every warrior expected to prepare himself for the duties Legolas and I will be expected to face, my lord," Galithil countered.

Thranduil's smile broadened. "True enough," he said. Then he grew serious again. "I have messages from Tulus and Tureden. The council is convening in the Hall. Can you fetch your brother and join us?"

Galithil stood. "Of course, my lord." He pulled a key from his breast pocket, unlocked Dolgailon's desk drawer and began stowing the papers he had been working on into it.

Thranduil regarded that with some curiosity.

"We are concerned there may be spies in the stronghold," Galithil reminded him. "Hallion has ordered us to keep all written records either in the family quarters or under lock and key until the spy is identified."

Thranduil nodded. "That is a very good idea," he said softly. Then he looked back at Galithil. "Since you are so well informed, do you happen to know how Dolgailon and Dollion decided to secure communications to the patrols and villages?"

"I do," Galithil replied, sifting through the papers in the drawer. He produced one that contained a rough map of the territory around the stronghold and several lists in its margins. Galithil turned the paper so it faced Thranduil and pointed first to one of the lists. "These are the only couriers that will be allowed to carry messages from the villages to the stronghold, until further notice," he explained. He pointed to another list. "And these couriers will be for the patrols."

The elves on those lists were all fiercely loyal to the king.

Galithil then traced his finger along a line on the map. "Dollion has set this as the perimeter that he and select members of the Guard will patrol for unauthorized communications via courier, bird or other means." He pointed to a third list. "These are the Guards he has entrusted to share this duty."

This list was almost exclusively Sindarin elves.

"They know not to allow any couriers through, except the authorized ones. And they will report to Dolgailon any other travelers, elven or animal, to the area around the stronghold or anyone traveling away from the stronghold, past the perimeter." He pulled another paper from the drawer and placed it next to the map. It was in Dolgailon's hand-a partially completed set of orders to the Northern Patrol. "Moreover," Galithil continued, "the officers will be informed that all authorized orders and reports will contain this symbol somewhere within their text." He tapped one of the first words Dolgailon had written. Two of its letters were oddly connected in a way that might have been a splotch of ink or an oddity of hand writing, but on closer inspection Thranduil saw it was a deliberate pattern that approximated, in miniature, the device on Dolgailon's seal.

Thranduil nodded, quite pleased. "That should do very well," he said.

"As well as can be managed," Galithil agreed, returning the papers to the desk and locking the drawer. "By your leave, my lord, I will go find my brother. We have both been very anxious to hear Tureden's report."

Thranduil did not doubt that. Fortunately, the report in question should satisfy them. He stood and nodded his permission for Galithil to leave. "Thank you," he said as his nephew rushed past him.

* * *

"You have the reports?" Legolas asked, rushing into the Great Hall, followed closely by Berior, Lanthir and Galuauth. The guards lingered near the door, but their captain signaled for them to join him at the table, where much of the rest of the King's Guard already sat. "From both Tureden and Tulus?" Legolas specified, pulling out his chair when he reached the table. He held his hand out for the small, curled papers in front of Hallion. The steward passed them to Legolas as Thranduil nodded his permission for everyone to sit.

Legolas did so and Berior stood behind him, leaning over him to have a view of the reports.

"Good!" Legolas said quietly, handing one paper over his shoulder to his cousin. "Very good," he repeated when he finished the second and it followed its mate into Berior's hands. Berior murmured his agreement and gave the papers back to Hallion. Legolas turned an eager expression on the king and drew a breath to speak.

Before he could, Dolgailon and Galithil charged into the Hall, followed by their guards.

"You have news?" Dolgailon called.

Thranduil took the papers from Hallion and held them out for Dolgailon, not waiting for his request to see them.

Rather than going to his own seat at the opposite end of the table, Dolgailon stood in place, reading.

"So, are you going to arrest her now?" Galithil asked after only scanning the reports.

"Indeed," Dolgailon agreed. "When do we leave for the village?" He shifted his weight back and took a step towards the door of the Hall, as if he expected to depart immediately.

"That is what we are going to discuss," Thranduil replied, smiling, albeit grimly. He gestured for Dolgailon and Galithil to sit.

Galithil slid into the chair between Legolas and Berior. Dolgailon frowned and, rather than take his normal seat, dropped into the nearest unoccupied chair without taking his eyes off the king. "What is there to discuss? I agreed to leave her in my village until we found all her servants. Now we have them. Four are already dead. Tureden confirms that the two servants I saw with Manadhien in the village are Lagril and Pelin's brothers, Morinco, Haldince," he said, tossing Tureden's report back to Hallion. "Tulus reports that his spies still have Fuilin and Glilavan under watch near Dol Guldur," he continued, returning the second report to Hallion in a similar manner. "That is all of them. We will go to the village, arrest them all at once, so they will not be able to aid one another's escape, hold a trial and then...well, the rest is your decision, of course. The important thing is to arrest them quickly, before they can escape or do more damage in my village."

A scornful noise interrupted any reply Thranduil might have made. "And you are supposed to be the superior tactician," Engwe said, shaking his head. "Surely you can see this will not be so easy."

Dolgailon made a sour face, but did not rise to that bait. He did not even glance at his uncle.

That did not stop Engwe. "First," he held up one finger, "we must decide who we can send to arrest them that will not alarm Manadhien and send her running."

"Or worse," Golwon added softly.

Galithil, Legolas and Berior looked at him in confusion.

"If she learns that she is cornered," Hallion explained in a low voice, "about to be arrested, suspecting she faces execution, she will be desperate to evade capture. In her position, I would try to create some sort of diversion to facilitate my escape. If I had an army at my disposal-and we have confirmed she is allied with orcs-I could create a mighty diversion indeed. One that would result in far too many deaths."

"All the more reason to move swiftly," Dolgailon pressed. "We should send word to Tulus's spies, who are already watching Fuilin and Glilavan, to arrest them. And with your permission, my lord, I will take some of the guard to arrest Manadhien myself. No one would think it strange that I am visiting my own village. If I travel there, it will not alarm her."

Engwe held up a second finger. "Fuilin and Glilavan are hiding in an orc camp. How many orcs are in that camp? How dangerous is the approach? Are there enough spies present to fight all those orcs, as well as Fuilin and Glilavan, and capture or kill them?" He held up a third finger. "And as for Manadhien, even if you can travel to that village for the second time this month without arousing suspicion, how many people will you be arresting there? Not just Manadhien, Morinco, Haldince, surely. What about the villagers that sympathize with Manadhien? Especially those that have served her, possibly without knowing the extent of her evil. Do we know exactly who they are and if any of them are loyal enough, or deceived enough, to help her escape? If so, what do we do with them? Arrest them too? Or at least detain them?" He paused for emphasis. "We need to discuss this, Dolgailon."

Thranduil agreed. He waited quietly until Dolgailon managed to unclench his jaw to speak again.

"Though he is being as tiresome as we have all come to expect, Engwe makes some valid points," Dolgailon finally conceded in a carefully measured voice.

He ignored Engwe's indignant hurumph.

"Fuilin and Glilavan's arrest does present some tactical difficulties," he continued, "assuming we want them alive without incurring significant losses ourselves. Manadhien's arrest is probably the easier of the two, as well as the most important, so let us start there. Given the information Tulus and his spies have sent us, we have identified everyone we need to arrest in addition to Manadhien, Morinco and Haldince. To start with, I would want her advisors to speak to the King. Also, there are three village guards that seem to be aware of Manadhien's schemes and possibly of her alliance with the orcs around that village. Solchion, Lumil and Baranil are their names. We should at least detain them."

"Very well," Thranduil replied, looking at the captain of his Guard. "How do you recommend we proceed?"

Conuion frowned slightly, thinking. "Focusing first on the village then, we are speaking of arresting three people-Manadhien, Morinco, Haldince-for treason, and detaining several others-Solchion, Lumil, Baranil and those on her council-for questioning. We cannot do that with fewer than a dozen guards, especially given the likelihood that these elves will violently resist. The problem is, I cannot spare a dozen guards." He turned to Dolgailon. "Perhaps we could enlist the aid of officers from the Southern and Western Patrols? Ostarndor, Morillion and their lieutenants? There is no doubt about their loyalty or skill. They are already in the area, so their movement towards the village should not be cause for alarm. If we send them, along with some of my guards-Belloth and Hurion would be best..."

"And Galudiron and I," Dolgailon added.

Conuion nodded. "Of course. With Tureden, Tulus and the other spies already present, that should be a large enough force. And since the guards will be traveling with Dolgailon, whose presence should not appear to be too out-of-place, we should not send her into flight." He faced Thranduil. "Does that meet with your approval, my lord?"

"Add me to your count and it will," Thranduil replied.

Conuion immediately scowled.

"I intend to personally arrest Manadhien," Thranduil said in a tone that even Conuion knew better than to challenge. "I have long anticipated the opportunity to look her in the eye again."

"I agree that certain aspects of this would be much easier if you went there yourself, my lord," Conuion responded, cautiously. "For example, you could determine the level of guilt that Solchion, Lumil, Baranil and the advisors bear, without having to haul the innocent along with the guilty back to the stronghold."

"And he could explain, in person, the crimes Manadhien has committed," Dolgailon added. "That might be necessary. She is popular and her crimes are difficult to believe."

"But in order for the King to travel to that village without sending Manadhien flying," Legolas interjected, "he would have to travel there secretly." His voice took on a rather dry tone. "Luckily, that will be easy to accomplish. It is very difficult to recognize either the King or his family."

Conuion nodded in response to that and merely looked at Thranduil evenly.

"If I avoid the villages and patrols along the way, I ought to be able to manage it," Thranduil countered, leveling a cool glare on his son that he was surprised to see did not make him so much as look away.

"What about Fuilin and Glilavan?" Berior asked in a clear effort to avert an argument. "Engwe is right that they are the bigger problem, camped amongst orcs."

"Is it your decision to simply execute them this time, Thranduil?" Engwe asked with an overly neutral tone that did nothing to disguise his disgust. "If so, you might better use your time and efforts at stealth to go to that camp instead of the village and put an arrow in each of their chests. It would forestall the need for a battle to capture two elves you intend to kill and, after you finish them, you can still return to the village and attend to matters there."

Everyone stared in utter silence at the King, awaiting his response to that suggestion.

Thranduil ignored his uncle's ill humor. He had his right to it, after all. Fuilin and Glilavan's fates were evil, indeed, but they had chosen them. Wishing they had not served no one. "Do we have scouting reports of this camp, Dolgailon?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord," Dolgailon responded promptly. "I ordered Ostarndor to send scouts in anticipation of the need to retrieve Fuilin and Glilavan. The camp is within sight of Dol Guldur and one hour from the western border of the forest. The best approach is along the western plain, through a ravine into the forest. The trees in the area offer no cover. There is only the ravine and roots and rocks on the ground. The camp itself consists of a shelter made of rocks on two sides, open in the front and closed in with piled wood at the back. The scouts report the camp is surrounded by orc lairs, but orcs do not occupy the camp itself. They have seen no more than twenty orcs at any one time in the area. Normally only five to ten. But, as I said, this area is within sight of Dol Guldur. A loud disturbance would, without doubt, bring the wrath of the entire fortress down upon whoever we send there."

"So, the best attack would be, as Engwe suggested, one that depends upon stealth and speed?"

"Yes, my lord. My scouts suggest a small contingent of elves could approach the camp to swiftly and, hopefully, quietly kill the surrounding orcs and offer Fuilin and Glilavan the opportunity to surrender."

"Or to raise an alarm," Engwe countered.

"Signifying their choice to be promptly executed, rather than to surrender," Dolgailon retorted. "And the elves we send would still have a good chance to escape whatever orcs were alerted. The scouts say this camp is the closest orc outpost to the forest border. The path to the plain from it is relatively clear, especially in daylight."

"Who could we send on this mission that we could expect to kill Fuilin and Glilavan, should it come to that?" Thranduil asked, speaking mostly to himself. The answer was immediately obvious. No one. There was no one that he would ask or order to such a deed. Bracing himself for an explosion, he turned to Conuion. "Engwe is correct. I have to do this myself."

That statement elicited the sternest scowl that Thranduil had seen on his guard's face since the mid Second Age, when he told him that he intended to lead warriors to help fight Sauron in Eriador in defiance of Oropher's orders. Still, Conuion only nodded.

There was a rustling around the table.

Thranduil glanced over the faces surrounding him. Legolas, Galithil and Berior were openly dismayed, Legolas not least of all, for reasons Thranduil easily sympathized with. Dolgailon seemed no better pleased. Hallion and Golwon were calculating, and possibly reining in, their responses. Even Lindomiel appeared ready to publicly protest.

Traveling within sight of Dol Guldur was insanely dangerous. Thranduil was perfectly aware of that. Unfortunately, even if he was willing to ask someone else to execute two elves-which he was not-he was also the most skilled warrior at this table, save possibly Engwe. He frowned. When had that happened? When he began his reign, he was the youngest member of his Ruling Council. Hallion and Golwon were still far older than him, but he had more experience in battle than even Golwon. They might try to dissuade him from this course of action, but it was the best choice, so they would not succeed.

"I will go with you, Thranduil," Engwe said into the uneasy silence. It was not a request or suggestion.

Thranduil's eyes widened involuntarily and his gaze darted to his uncle.

"I will not allow my brother's son-my nephew-to face Dol Guldur alone while I sit idly in this stronghold," Engwe continued with a sharp tone. "Nor will I let him face such dark deeds alone," he added in a softer voice. "I am going with you."

Thranduil stifled an astonished snort. There was a reason why he tolerated his uncle's bile and this was it. Engwe might be annoying, but he was also steadfast and utterly true, even in deeds that repulsed him beyond measure, once convinced they were necessary.

"I appreciate your support," Thranduil said softly.

Engwe only made an incoherent muttering noise in response.

"I am coming also, obviously, my lord," Conuion added. "Pendurion will come with us. So will Belloth and Hurion. They are the best archers amongst the Guard. In their place, Lanthir and Galuauth can go south to help arrest Manadhien in the village."

Thranduil nodded and drew a breath to declare their business finished, hoping to dismiss his council before open warfare erupted over the decisions they had made.

"One more question, my lord," Lindomiel said before he could speak. And she continued without awaiting his leave to do so. "Are we certain that we have all of Manadhien's servants?"

The question alone elicited a loud groan from Dolgailon.

"The success of these plans depends on their secrecy, so we must be certain," Lindomiel insisted. "Unfortunately, we are not. There may be one spy left. Here in the stronghold, we fear. Until we can identify that spy, bringing Manadhien and her servants into the stronghold would be very dangerous. It might even play into her hands."

"We do not know for certain that she has another spy," Dolgailon replied, sounding exasperated.

"Someone leaked the information that Legolas killed Demil," Hallion said. "We know that for certain. The only people that should have known that are in this room. So, unless one of us suddenly has forgotten how to hold his tongue..."

"Dannenion and Anastor also knew," Galithil interjected.

"Anastor swore to me that he did not tell anyone, not even anyone in his family," Legolas said quickly. "Not even Maidhien or Noruil. And I completely trust him. He fought Demil at my side. I would not be alive, save for his deeds in that fight. He would not lie to me about it."

"And I judged Dannenion to be honest when he swore to me that he told no one, not even his wife or brother," Thranduil added.

"Well, it was none of us that spoke of it," Berior said. "So it seems we do have a problem."

"Could it have been Langon?" Galithil asked, looking at Legolas. "You told him, did you not?"

Legolas nodded. "I did. That is possible."

Thranduil shook his head. "Hallion and I questioned Langon. He swore he told no one and I believe him. He understands very well the pain such deeds cause. He would not make gossip of them. Could anyone have overheard your conversation with him?"

"Not even Tureden heard it, apparently," Legolas answered. "And he was standing at the door of the weapons shed where Langon and I spoke."

Thranduil turned to Dolgailon. "What of the orders that you sent to the Training Program? The ones suspending Legolas's participation in sword training. Did you specify a reason for those orders?"

Dolgailon shook his head.

"He did not," Legolas confirmed. "I saw them. The lack of explanation is the reason Langon spoke to me."

"And no one else here told anyone?" Thranduil asked. "Think carefully."

Everyone present shook their heads.

"When Legolas told us how Demil died," Hallion said, "the scribes were in the Hall. Could one of them have heard? Berior was copying that morning and heard us discussing the swords."

"I saw Legolas jump up from the table and then I saw the swords and figured out whose they were. I could not hear what any of you were saying," Berior responded. "I do not believe anyone overheard the rest of our conversation. Legolas hardly shouted that confession, after all."

"Someone must have overheard it and that person is our spy," Lindomiel concluded. "A very well placed one. We need to know who they are."

"Agreed," Thranduil said.

Dolgailon frowned. "Surely you do not intend to delay this arrest further? The risk is too great. Both that Manadhien will do more harm in my village and that she might escape altogether. We have to arrest those we can now and worry about the remaining spy later."

"The risk to whoever goes to arrest her and bring her to the stronghold is too great if there is another spy," Engwe said. "How many more warriors will we allow her to kill while she and her minions evade arrest?"

Berior closed his eyes.

"Engwe," Thranduil growled in a low voice.

"If we cannot arrest her now, perhaps it is time to again consider the proposal that Dolgailon and I go to that village to keep it safe while we search for the spy," Galithil began.

"No," Legolas interrupted him.

"I cannot imagine how putting two of her targets within her easy grasp would improve the situation," Lindomiel said.

"Children have no business being involved in any of this," Engwe muttered. "That should be obvious."

Galithil regarded him with narrowed eyes.

"Sending Dolgailon, at least, would allow him to keep the worst of Manadhien's machinations in check," Golwon said. "And if we are to spend time searching for this last spy, I strongly agree that something must be done in the meantime to protect the southern villages from her."

Dolgailon nodded and leaned forward to lock eyes with Thranduil. "If I am in the village, my guards and I will already be in place to help arrest Manadhien when the time comes," he said. "And I will be able to coordinate with Morillion and Ostarndor directly. Moreover, if you want to find this remaining spy, what better way to do so than to have one of your own right in that village?"

"The King already has seven spies in that village at this very moment, Dolgailon," Hallion responded. "And we risk her leaving if you threaten her authority in that village. If she leaves, that would make arresting her all the more difficult."

"She will not leave if I go with him," Galithil said. "If Dolgailon and I go to the village under the pretense that I have been sent by the King to learn more about governing villages-if Dolgailon tells Manadhien that he wants her to teach me, since he must focus on his duties as Troop Commander-it puts us in the village to keep an eye on her; it obligates her to stay in the village to teach me; and it gives me the ability to have a direct hand in all she does, since she is supposed to be teaching me. It makes me a closer spy than any we presently have. It is the best hope for bringing this situation to a swift resolution."

"Or you to a swift death," Legolas countered. "It makes you, and the Troop Commander, her next targets and gives her even easier access to troop orders and reports than she already has."

"We have discussed in the past that I am perfectly capable of defending myself," Dolgailon retorted. "And regardless of where I am, we have already taken measures to increase the security of troop reports and orders. We either arrest her now with the plans we have agreed upon, or I go to that village. I will risk no more harm to the people that expect me to protect them. That is my final word,"

"Your word is not the final word, Lord Dolgailon," Thranduil said softly.

"In that village, it is," Dolgailon replied.

"In all this realm, I have the final word," Thranduil said, still speaking softly, but now with a definite edge on his voice.

Dolgailon said nothing further, but his stubborn expression did not change. Thranduil knew that expression all too well.

"The problem, Dolgailon," Legolas said into the silence, "is that if you go alone, the chances are good that Manadhien will leave the village to seek power, or at least better privacy for her schemes, elsewhere. The only proposal to counter that risk is to take Galithil with you. Will you truly risk your little brother in that manner?"

Galithil turned an utterly scathing glare on his cousin and drew a sharp breath to speak.

Dolgailon spoke first. "All warriors must eventually be tested, Legolas," he said, clipping off each word. "If you, Galithil or Berior were of age, I would deem each of you ready to fight. Not in one of the guards, but in a patrol..."

That claim took Thranduil so much by surprise that he could not suppress an audible gasp.

"Since, as this realm's Troop Commander, I am prepared to send my little brother to battle, I am equally prepared to take him to my village where, I will grant you, he will be in as much danger as he would be in the patrols." He turned back to Thranduil. "If Conuion can spare two guards, two for each of us, that is enough for Galithil to be accompanied at all times by two warriors, as well as for us to have a guard on watch even at night. Galithil can wear mail..."

Thranduil shook his head and held up a hand to cut him off. "You will not convince me that this can be made safe," he said. He did not believe that and he did not believe any of the children were ready to serve in the patrols, even if their ages were discounted. And he did not discount their ages.

"I am not entirely untried in battle, my lord," Galithil said, finally able to get a word in. "I have fought near that village before, if you will remember. Indeed, I will remind you that you would not be here to take part in this discussion had Legolas and I not been in that battle."

Thranduil clenched his jaw to remain silent. As much as he might wish to, he could not deny the truth of Galithil's claim. From every report he heard of that battle-the one in which Amglaur and Limmiel died-Legolas, Galithil and even Lindomiel fought very well.

"I will not claim that I am anywhere near as good with a bow as Legolas," Galithil continued when Thranduil said nothing. "I am not. But I am perfectly capable of defending myself with one. What I will claim," he glanced at Legolas, "and I defy anyone to refute me, is that I am much better with a sword than Legolas."

"That is certainly true," Legolas conceded quietly.

Galithil nodded. "Even Langon admits that I am good..."

That made Thranduil's brows climb. "It that true?" he asked Dolgailon, before thinking about his words.

"I beg your pardon!" Galithil exclaimed, standing and glaring at his uncle.

To Thranduil's left, Lindomiel made a small noise, as well.

"It is true," both Dolgailon and Colloth replied quietly.

"I ask your pardon, Lord Galithil," Thranduil said quickly, hands out in a placating gesture. "I truly did not intend to question your honesty. It was only the idea that Langon paid anyone an open compliment that seemed so...frankly, hard to believe. But I do not question you."

Galithil sat back down, mollified. "It is true," he repeated calmly. "And if Legolas could manage Demil in a sword fight, I could have as well. So, I can protect myself in the village, even against Manadhien and her servants, if need be,"

Legolas leaned towards his cousin, hand extended towards him, though flat on the table, as if he was restraining himself from reaching for Galithil to shake some sense into him. "First of all," he said, "I could not manage Demil. Anastor and Dannenion and I all fought Demil together, and he managed all three of us. Easily. I could not have killed Demil, I assure you, if Demil had not believed I would not try." He paused and now he did reach to grasp his cousin's forearm. "Make no mistake, Galithil: You may be so good that you have landed a single hit on Langon once or twice, but you are not so good yet that you equal him. Demil far more than equals Langon. Langon could not have bested Demil alone. Adar could not. Dolgailon could not. You will not." He paused. "Secondly, no matter how skilled you are with a sword, sparring with Langon or Dolgailon or me or any other elf is a far different thing from killing an elf. Successfully facing orcs and spiders is a far different thing from facing an elf. This is not a matter of skill, Galithil. Surely you recognize that."

"I do," Galithil replied, holding Legolas's gaze. "Just as you recognized perfectly well what would be involved when Mauril threatened this stronghold. Yet, you asked to help hunt him. When the safety of the people of this realm was at stake, you killed Mauril. And, as I understand it, you did not hesitate to do so."

Legolas said nothing to that.

"The safety of the southern villages is the stake in this decision, Legolas," Galithil continued. "I cannot allow the people of this realm to come to death, knowingly and without taking any action to prevent it, solely in order to preserve my own life. What purpose do we serve in this forest, if not to keep it and its people safe? I am only asking for the opportunity to do my duty to our people just as you have done."

Legolas pressed his lips together. Then, with obvious reluctance, he nodded once and looked down.

A moment later, after staring at Galithil with wide eyes, Berior did the same.

"I do not like it either, my lord," Golwon interjected. "But I agree with Dolgailon and Galithil that their presence in the village is necessary unless we arrest Manadhien immediately." He sighed. "Galithil is only two years younger than I was when I began serving in patrols around my home in Mithrim. And he is the same age I was when I fought in the First Battle. He certainly has more training than I ever had. If he wishes to serve, I do not think you should deny him the right to."

Thranduil scowled at all of them. Then he turned to Lindomiel. "My lady?" he asked softly.

Gaze on his aunt, Galithil strove to appear confident. Capable. Worthy of the duty he had requested to shoulder. Still, his eyes begged Lindomiel to give him her support, believing, not entirely without justification, that her words would have some weight.

"We must not allow Manadhien to escape again," Lindomiel finally said, after some thought. "Her treason against this realm has done far too much damage already. And we must not allow her servants to escape. They have proven they will carry out her designs with or without their mistress's direct involvement. We must be sure that we have all of them. That being so, I agree with Dolgailon and Galithil that it is our duty to protect the people of that village."

She paused and looked directly at Thranduil.

"Specifically, serving that village is the responsibility Dolgailon and Galithil inherited from their parents and they have the right to bear it," she continued firmly. "Galithil is not of age, but the Troop Commander states he is capable of defending himself. I think we must trust that evaluation as we trust any other that he makes regarding the warriors in this realm. This is a dangerous scheme, I agree, but it is the only one we have heard that will both protect the villagers and contain Manadhien, while we make sure we have identified all her servants. I support it," she concluded.

A smile flashed across Galithil's face before he quickly smothered it and turned back to Thranduil at the head of the table.

Thranduil looked at Hallion.

Expression grim, Hallion also gave a single nod.

Thranduil sat silently, considering the arguments he had heard. Finally, after a long pause, he faced Conuion and spoke. "You will write Tulus and Tureden. Tell Tureden to stay where he is to help Tulus keep an eye on Manadhien and to help arrest all of them when the time comes. Also tell them that Dolgailon and Galithil are coming to the village and explain why. Tell them to be prepared for anything and to watch for any signals Dolgailon might make while approaching and entering that village." He turned to Dolgailon and Galithil, who were already smiling with satisfaction. "You may both go to the village. If Manadhien accepts this arrangement, try to use your proximity to her to find out whatever you may. We will allow one month to identify the remaining spy. If we have not done so by then, we are arresting everyone we can identify using the plans we have already discussed, regardless. I will not wait longer than that. I want this over."

"That suits me, my lord," Dolgailon said.

"Conuion, when you write Tulus and Tureden, warn them that if Manadhien reacts badly to this arrangement, at the first indication she intends to escape, they should be ready to arrest her and her servants," Thranduil continued. Then he paused and turned a concerned look on Dolgailon. "If that happens, I fear it will fall to you to go after Fuilin and Glilavan as quickly as you can to prevent their escape."

"I can manage it, my lord," he said.

Thranduil would have to trust that. He focused on Galithil. "When she is arrested, I do not want you anywhere near her if it can be avoided. Do not participate. Let your brother, the guards and warriors manage her. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," Galithil answered promptly.

"At all times during your stay in that village, you will obey your guards and your brother as if any order they give you came directly from me, understood?"

"Yes, my lord," he repeated.

"You will carry your knives and sword with you at all times, including in Manadhien's Hall, and I care not at all if she claims that offends her. Keep them always within reach, even when you are asleep. And you will wear mail. At all times."

Galithil nodded.

"Limit your interactions with Manadhien and all those we intend to arrest to the barest minimum that you can manage without arousing her suspicions that your presence is a ruse."

Again, Galithil nodded.

"Do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be lured outside of that village."

"Of course not, my lord," Galithil said.

"And if she or any of her servants threaten you, or try to force you to anything, do not hesitate to defend yourself. You may only have one chance to do so. Do not squander it."

"Outstanding advice," Legolas agreed quietly.

"Yes, my lord," Galithil replied once more, his expression grim.

"And one final matter: before you leave, you will discuss this plan with your betrothed wife and do your best to both make her comfortable with it and to impress upon her the importance of not gossiping about it, even amongst her family. Especially amongst her family."

Galithil frowned. "Maidhien will not be happy with me over this, but she will understand and accept it. And she already knows not to gossip. Indeed, in my absence, you personally will likely be kept well informed of her family's gossip."

"Tell her to speak to me whenever she wishes," Thranduil replied. Then, he turned to Conuion. "Who will you send with Galithil and Dolgailon?" he asked.

"Galithil's regular guard cannot go," Conuion replied. "Colloth would recognize Manadhien. We had already suggested sending Galuauth and Lanthir, so I recommend they guard Galithil specifically. I would also send Heledir, to help Galudiron guard Dolgailon. There are no other choices, my lord. Everyone else remaining in the Guard cannot go for the same reason Colloth cannot, if our intent is to spy rather than arrest her immediately."

"Very well," Thranduil agreed. "And Colloth will guard Legolas, since Galuauth and Lanthir are going with Galithil?"

Conuion nodded. "That would be my recommendation. Until you, Belloth, Hurion, Pendurion and I leave to arrest Fuilin and Glilavan, they will still be available in the capital to escort the Queen or other members of the family, as need be. Afterwards, there will be no one but Colloth, but there is nothing to be done. We have stretched the Guard to the absolute limit, my lord."

"So I see," Thranduil muttered. "I have another task for you, Conuion," he continued. "While we wait this month to see if Dolgailon and Galithil might learn anything about this remaining spy, you will be working on the same problem here. To start with, I want you to speak to everyone that knew of Legolas's involvement in Demil and Mauril's deaths, including everyone in this room. Even me. Ask them who they have discussed it with and who was present when they heard of those incidents and then go speak to those people. Do the same with them. Make a list of everyone that knew or might have known. One of those people has to be the person we are searching for. I want to know who that person is."

"Yes, my lord," Conuion replied.

Thranduil frowned. "Send the owl to Tulus and Tureden tonight." He turned to Dolgailon. "You and Galithil may leave tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord," Dolgailon replied, grasping Galithil's shoulder.

Thranduil leaned against the back of his chair. He had a very uneasy feeling about these plans.

* * *

In the far south of the realm, under a rotting tree covered with black slime and veiled in dark mist, an orc warrior ambled towards his commander.

"I seen that filthy hawk again," he growled. "It ain't hers."

"Next time you see it, kill it," his commander grunted in reply, never turning more than the slightest fraction of his attention away from the bone he was licking clean.

From some distance away, Glilavan frowned. Careful to keep his head bowed and to let his hair fall on either side of his face, he studied the tangle of roots and rocks on the edge of the ravine that ran along the western border of his new home. 'His home!' he all but snarled to himself. His gaze flicked to the orcs and then to Fuilin, asleep in the shelter. Then he returned to sharpening his knife. At least watching the ravine was better than watching the orcs. He could not imagine anyway this could be made worse. And that fact might be the best aspect of this situation.

* * *

elleth/ellyth - Female elf/elves

AN: Apologies to John Steinbeck for the appropriation of his words for the title of this chapter.

Also, while it is a nice dream that I will post a chapter a week, I doubt I will. It will probably be more like every two weeks.


	2. Unexpected complications

**Chapter 2: Unexpected complications**

Draw, release. Pull another arrow and fit it against his bowstring. Galithil concentrated on efficiency-on moving as quickly as he could. The bow would never be his favored weapon, but this was the largest group of orcs that they had encountered on their journey south so far. Every enemy that he could fell with an arrow was one that he would not have to face on the ground. Or that would not escape to attack a nearby village.

Galithil did not know this particular part of the forest. Instead of taking the normal path that led straight from the stronghold to his family's village, they cut across the forest to the western border and followed it southward. That made the journey longer, but they avoided the patrols and other villages, giving them best chance of approaching Manadhien at unawares.

Traveling that route also meant they ran across orcs-three times-in the un-patrolled areas of the forest. Dolgailon had clearly not expected that. Galithil doubted his brother would have risked this route if he had.

Galithil glanced left towards a downward motion that he could not identify. It was Galuauth lowering his bow. Another fast glance explained why. His guard was out of arrows. He was a fast shot. Faster than Galithil, for certain.

Dolgailon made two short whistles.

The orcs redoubled their panicked efforts to escape. They knew the meaning of that call, apparently. Galithil reached for another arrow, this time spreading his fingers wide as he did. Only two arrows left in his quiver after this one. It was just as well Dolgailon made the signal for everyone to prepare to go to the ground. Galithil released the arrow, shouldered his bow swiftly, and pulled his sword from its sheath. His arrow sank into an orc's ear.

Dolgailon loosed one long whistle.

With a deep breath, Galithil looked at Galuauth. The guard nodded. Galithil did not stop to think. The first time they had to fight orcs on this journey, he learned that not giving himself time to think was the key. He made two running steps further along the branch he was perched on and leapt down, directly next to an orc trying to escape past his position. The drop to the ground was enough momentum to cleave the orc's shoulder pauldron and his shoulder underneath it, nearly separating its arm. The orc dropped to its knees, screeching, and Galithil placed his foot on its chest to push it over and to gain leverage to free his sword. Galuauth covered his back, killing two orcs, while Galithil raised his sword to a high guard to face another attack.

One orc fell to Galithil's downswing, when his sword plunged into its gut. Another fell to his upswing, which cut across an orc neck. He parried the sword coming at him in his peripheral vision, forcing his enemy's sword down and to the side. Then he stepped inside the orc's range, while drawing his belt knife. He thrust it under the orc's breast blade. Disgusting black blood flowed onto his hand and knife hilt. He pushed the orc away and stepped back to face the next enemy.

It was over as fast as it started. The sounds of screams and clashing metal were replaced by low groans and otherwise utter silence in the trees around them.

Galithil turned a full circle, making sure no more orcs stood. Then he looked for his brother and found him, on the opposite side of the battle field, scrutinizing the blood on Galithil's tunic. Galithil looked down at himself. Only black blood. Dolgailon had already come to the same conclusion and was accounting for all the guards. While his back was turned, Galithil looked his brother up and down. The only blood on his clothes was also black. Galithil quietly released a long breath that only shuddered slightly and began wiping down his sword.

"Strip them and pile them up," Dolgailon ordered.

Galithil immediately bent over the last orc he killed and concentrated fully on the task at hand, grateful for it. If he focused on destroying the orcs, he did not have time to think about anything else. His hands did not shake as much. Or least it was easier to hide how badly they shook. And Galithil refused to allow any of the guards, or worse, Dolgailon, to see his hands shaking.

He took the orc's knife and sword, used its own knife to cut off its breast plate and then he tossed them both, along with the sword, onto a pile of metal Dolgailon and Galudiron had already started. He picked up the orc's leg and dragged it to another pile-one of dead orcs. Then he went to another orc. This one was still moaning. He leaned over and slit its throat, careful to cut deeply, but to do so at arms length, in order to avoid the blood that would spurt forth. He learned that the hard way after their first battle. He had burned that tunic along with the orcs.

He dragged this orc, still bleeding, to the pile and hefted it onto it.

"You fought well," Dolgailon said to him, speaking quietly, as he deposited his own orc onto the pile. "Again," he added, his voice bitter and his expression stern.

Galithil smiled at him, pride driving off at least some of the shakiness. As for Dolgailon's tone, Galithil knew his brother's anger was not directed at him. But he was angry. Angry in a way Galithil had never seen him. Angry in a way that looked far too much like Uncle Thranduil with foreign criminals in his court. That was definitely something Galithil did not want to entangle himself in.

They worked silently, set fire to the pile of orcs and stashed the scavenged metal in a small, nearby cave made by a jutting rock. Dolgailon would send a patrol to retrieve it later. Then, without any more wasted time, they retrieved their horses from where they had scattered during the battle, mounted and moved on.

They traveled until the sun was almost midway across the sky before reaching a small clearing. Something moved in it.

Galithil tensed, gripped his bow, which he carried in his hand while riding, and looked to Dolgailon. His brother only raised his hand, a signal that they would stop. Neither he nor any of the guards seemed alarmed, so Galithil peered more carefully into the clearing, trying to determine what they saw that he did not.

Ostarndor and Morillion, the captains of the Southern and Western patrols, emerged from the shadows of the forest and stepped forward to greet Dolgailon as he jumped down from his horse. Galithil and the guards dismounted as well.

"You sent for us to meet you," Ostarndor called, inclining his head to Dolgailon.

"So here we are," Morillion added.

Their casual attitude quickly disappeared under the Troop Commander's harsh glare and the two captains came to attention.

Dolgailon stepped between them and then walked past them without a word, pointing into the clearing they had just left, a silent request to speak to them in private. Galithil sucked a soft breath across his teeth. He knew what private conversations meant. Not warm pleasantries, that was certain. Those two officers were not going to enjoy explaining the presence of all those orcs to the Troop Commander. Not at all.

Ostarndor and Morillion turned to comply and as they did, both looked back at the guards, to at least nod in greeting to them.

Ostarndor froze in mid-nod as his gaze passed over them. Then he took a step towards them. "Galithil?" he exclaimed.

Galithil smiled at him a little sheepishly, given the circumstances. "Mae govannen, Ostarndor. Morillion," he said quietly.

Morillion turned at the sound of his name and, seeing Galithil, his eyes widened. "Galithil?" he repeated, confused. "Is that orc blood?" he asked, eyes fixed on Galithil's tunic.

"It is," Dolgailon answered, also stopping and turning to face Galithil. "That is what I intend to talk to you about."

"Galithil is already joining the patrol?" Morillion asked, trying to conceal his surprise and still looking Galithil over, especially the sword and bow he carried. "But why bring him this far south?" he continued. "This has to be his first patrol. I would prefer him stationed much closer to the Path. At least until he is tested." His gaze lingered on Galithil's tunic again. "Of course, if he has already been tested..." he let that statement trail off when he noticed the bandage on Galithil's forearm, where the orc in their second fight had cut him.

"But he could not be of age," Ostarndor protested. "It has not been fifty years since Lord Aradunnon left his village to live in the stronghold, and he went there to raise Galithil."

Morillion swung back around on Dolgailon. "Is he not of age, my lord? In that case, I really must object. I realize who he is, but even you were of age before you joined the patrols."

That exchange drove Galithil to stare at Morillion. The captain of the Western Patrol thought he was joining a patrol? His patrol? That was insane. First year warriors, even if he was one, which he was not, went to the Guards, not the Patrols.

"I am not of age," Galithil replied. "But neither am I joining a patrol. Not today, at any rate."

"Quite correct," Dolgailon said, his tone icy. "Of course, despite that fact, for the last three days he has done the job of the Western Patrol. I intended to do you the courtesy of discussing the three orcs encampments we destroyed in private. We can have this discussion in public if you insist."

"Three orc encampments?" Morillion and Ostarndor repeated, instantly focused on that alarming news.

"Yes," Dolgailon confirmed, ignoring the fact that Galithil and the guards still stood a few steps away. "One a little over half day's travel west of Midhion's village. Another the same distance from Nandoril's village. And you will find the carcasses of the last still burning less then half a day's travel due north."

"Those are areas my patrol does not normally frequent, my lord," Morillion responded. "We visit those villages and patrol their surrounds, but only the areas where the villagers hunt. The areas further outside the villages...those particular villages..." he paused, thinking. "The last time we passed that deep into the unoccupied forest would have been at the full moon. The western border is very long, my lord. Our priorities are the forest edge, to keep out incursions by men, and the areas inhabited by villages."

"Do you think I do not know that?" Dolgailon snapped. "Do you think I will accept any excuse for finding almost one hundred orcs inside your patrol area? If you are patrolling the forest edge, how did you not see signs of them?" He turned to Ostarndor. "Unless they came up from the south, inside the forest. In that case, how did _you_ not see signs of them?"

"They might have come up from the south, my lord," Ostarndor replied, "and we would not have seen them. My patrol has moved north of the southern villages and south of the mountains, per your last orders. Orcs could very well slip between your village and the forest border under those circumstances, if your village guards do not do their job. And I warned you not to count on village guards to do that job."

Dolgailon frowned. "My last orders to you were for you to carry on as you were," he began. Then he froze, realization dawning, and his gaze darted to Galithil and the guards. "Surely she has not become so bold," he said.

"Apparently, she has," Galithil answered softly.

Dolgailon muttered some words Galithil did not think he would have said in court. Then he turned and resumed his march to the clearing. "Come, sit down," he ordered, making a gesture that encompassed Galithil, the guards, and his captains. The anger had left his voice. Everyone hurried after him and they sat in a tight group on several logs.

Galithil studied the clearing as he sat next to his brother. The ground here was well trodden and the logs had not naturally fallen in this arrangement. This must be a meeting place the patrols used.

"My last orders to the Southern Patrol," Dolgailon said to Ostarndor once everyone was seated. "What were they, exactly?"

Ostarndor looked at Dolgailon askance, but he pulled a folded paper from the pouch on his belt. "I have the orders right here, my lord."

"Good," Dolgailon said, taking the paper.

Galithil blatantly leaned over his brother's shoulder to look at it and he drew a sharp breath in surprise. The letters were Dolgailon's hand. Galithil would have sworn to it. He reached and bent the paper at its fold.

"Dolgailon, that is your seal," he exclaimed.

"It is an outstanding copy of it," Dolgailon agreed. "As this is an amazing forgery of my writing."

"Forgery!" Ostarndor cried.

Dolgailon lifted his gaze to look back at him and nodded. "I did not order you to position your patrols north of the villages or south of the mountains. I can think of no good reason to do that."

Ostarndor and Morillion were shaking their heads. "What is the meaning of this, my lord?" Morillion asked.

"The meaning of this is the reason Galithil and I have come south. It is the original reason why I sent for both of you to meet me here. And none too soon, it would appear," Dolgailon answered. And then he proceeded to explain who Moralfien was and what crimes she had committed, including her first attempts against the queen, her alliance with orcs, the murder of the queen's parents, her most recent attempts against Legolas and the murder of Celonhael, the warriors and guards. By the time he was finished, Morillion and Ostarndor were reduced to open-mouthed staring.

Ostarndor pointed to the orders in Dolgailon's hands. "So you are saying that she forged those orders and sent them to me, so that orcs could pass through my patrol area and into Morillion's?" His finger swung around to point at his fellow captain.

"Those orcs were outside Midhion and Nanodoril's villages, you said," Morillion whispered.

"And the ones today were within a reasonable march of your village or Nandoril's," Galithil added, looking hard at his brother.

"Surely, no elf would conspire with orcs to attack innocent villagers," Ostarndor said, frowning.

Dolgailon nodded. "Moralfien would. Her plans are clearly advancing much more quickly than we expected. We need to get word of this to the king. Immediately."

"What is the king doing about this?" Ostarndor asked.

"Galithil and I are here as part of a plan to arrest her," Dolgailon responded. "The king has had spies watching her for a month now-since we realized who she was-and we have identified all her servants but one. The King wants that servant found before we move against her. Galithil and I are going to the village to keep an eye on her, ensure she does not escape, and to thwart the worst of her schemes-like this one," he shook the orders in his hand, "until we can arrest her. The king has given us one month to find the unknown servant. After that, we arrest her and you two," he pointed at Morillion and Ostarndor, "will be helping us do that, because we will also be arresting two other elves in that village for treason and detaining her entire council and three guards for suspicion of treason."

Ostarndor and Morillion nodded, too stunned to manage anything else.

"Until we arrest her," Dolgailon continued, "we had already decided to make some changes in the way the orders for both your patrols are managed. The need for those changes is now very clear. From now on, orders will come directly from me, in my village. Your couriers should expect to take them from no one's hands but mine or Galithil's directly and they must travel to the village to receive them. Moreover, I want you both to use specific couriers and no one else. Haradon for the Southern Patrol and Geledhel for the Western. If they cannot come for some reason, send only one of your officers. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," they answered.

Dolgailon pulled his most recent orders-legitimate ones-from his tunic and opened them. "To ensure all correspondence is authentic, it will now include this symbol. And anything you send to me or to the stronghold should contain the same symbol, so we know it truly came from you." He handed them the orders, pointing to the miniature of his device, hidden amongst the runes.

They studied it.

"Obviously, a very good and necessary idea," Ostarndor said.

Dolgailon nodded. "Tell no one of any of this," he concluded. "Not who Moralfien is, the change in reporting procedures, and especially nothing about this symbol. No one but your officers. And make sure they understand they may tell no one. Until Moralfien's final servant is caught, we must assume it might be anyone."

"Yes, my lord," they repeated.

Dolgailon turned to Galithil. "I think we had better hurry to that village. The sooner we bring her under control, the better."

"And the sooner we get word of this," Galithil flicked the fake orders with a finger, "to the king, the better," he added.

"Indeed," Dolgailon agreed.

* * *

Manadhien stared past the empty chairs at the end of the meeting table to glare at the tapestries that decorated the walls of her Hall. She always hated those tapestries and not just because they depicted the supposedly great deeds of the former lords of this village. She also hated them because she did not doubt that they were woven by the former ladies of this village, who she also hated. But now she had a new reason to hate them: simply because she could see them. She should not be able to see them. Her view of them should be obstructed by her loyal servants and longtime friends, Fuilin, Mauril and Demil. It was once.

But now, Fuilin was forced into hiding far to the south. Worse still, Mauril and Demil were dead. Dead along with two other dear friends, Lagril and Pelin. She could scarcely believe it. She had not yet truly fathomed their loss. They often served her separated from her by great distances. Even so, she always knew they were here. Somewhere in Middle Earth. They would come if she called for them. They would follow her to the ends of Arda.

Now they, like so many others dear to her, were in Mandos. Sent there by the House of Oropher.

Her hand clenched around the blue jewel in her skirt pocket. So many losses.

"This letter, my lady, is from Selwon," Gwathron said, interrupting her musings. "He says that their village is short of guards since two of theirs, brothers, have gone to look after their sister. Her husband was one of the recent fatalities in the Southern Patrol. He asks if we can spare a guard-he prefers two-until they return, which he expects will be sometime before the new moon."

Manadhien took the letter Gwathron offered her and glanced over it.

"I recommend we try to find someone to send," Mornil said softly as she refolded it and placed it on the table. "We cannot leave Selwon and his people to depend on Thranduil's patrols for their defense. To do so would be cruel."

Manadhien nodded. "Speak to Seregon," she said, directing herself to Mornil. "Command him to send Buiowon and his younger brother to Selwon's village. I will prepare a response for them to carry to Selwon." She turned back to Gwathron.

"That is the last matter for us to consider, my lady," he said.

"Thank you, Gwathron," she said, and she nodded to the scribe at the end of the table. A dismissal.

The scribe stood, bowed to her, picked up his materials, and left the Hall.

Manadhien, Gwathron and Mornil did not move from the table.

"Baranil reports that he saw the owl again, my lady," Gwathron said as soon as the Hall was empty of everyone but them. "It is definitely the same one. It has a distinct speckled pattern on its breast. And he is certain he saw a pouch on its leg."

"Did he find where it is landing?" Manadhien asked.

"Somewhere on the outskirts of the village, on the southern edge, but it had flown again before he got there. He will see it land next time, now that he knows generally where to wait for it."

"Good," she said. She did not like this owl. It could be just a villager communicating with family, but she doubted it. People used hawks or falcons or doves for that if they did not use regular couriers. Not owls.

"Fuilin reports the orcs killed a hawk they were suspicious of near their camp," Mornil added.

He seemed almost eager to hear her response to that news. The amusement he derived from watching her temper was almost disturbing. She refused to rise to the bait. "Good," was all she said. "Are the orcs in place? Are we ready?"

"Yes, my lady," Gwathron replied. "Do you honestly believe this will draw both Thranduil and Dolgailon out?"

She laughed a cold laugh. "The outright slaughter of two villages? Yes, they will both come to avenge that. You will personally lead the last group of orcs to capture Thranduil and Dolgailon. No mistakes."

"We still do not have a plan to draw out Legolas. Or Galithil," Mornil said. "The king still has heirs, if young ones."

"That Legolas is still alive is not my fault, Mornil," Manadhien replied. "It is your brother's." She paused to glare at him when he made a face. "We will find a way to deal with Legolas. With luck, the people will not accept so young a king. We will see. But, regardless, plans are advancing. _He_ wants the forest entirely under our control and that suits me. It is time for greater things. And time to avenge the losses they have dealt us. Definitively."

Both Gwathron and Mornil nodded to that.

"Let us go prepare for dinner," she said, rising from the table. She was just drawing a breath to dismiss them when the door of the Hall opened and Solchion rushed through it. He walked straight towards her.

"Dolgailon has returned, my lady," he announced, without waiting for her leave to speak. "He must have come from the border rather than the stronghold. My cousin was watching further north on the path, as you ordered, to make sure we had better notice of any arrivals and he did not send word of seeing them. What is more, my lady, Dolgailon has some child with him."

"A child?" Manadhien exclaimed. Despite the supreme annoyance of suffering the renewed intrusion of the king's nephew-not to mention the fact that his presence here might endanger her current plans-the idea of him arriving with a child was intriguing. He would only be traveling with either Galithil or Legolas.

"At best, the person accompanying him is just barely of age," Solchion clarified. "He does not appear to be fully an adult."

Manadhien frowned. "What color hair does the child have? And is it only one child?"

"One, my lady," Solchion confirmed. "He has silver hair. Like Dolgailon's."

"Galithil?" Mornil and Gwathron whispered, eyes locked on her.

"Almost certainly," Manadhien replied, also in a whisper. "I wonder what has inspired Lord Dolgailon to bring his delightful younger brother to our village," she continued in a normal voice, while stepping around the table. She stifled a smirk as Mornil, Gwathron and Solchion tried to work out if her description of Galithil was sincere.

By the time she reached the end of the Hall to pass through its open doors, Dolgailon-and it was, indeed, Galithil, she saw as she descended the stairs of the Hall-had already entered the village. People were calling to him and hurrying to the courtyard to greet him as they always did when any member of the king's family made an appearance. She pasted a neutral expression her face in an effort to disguise her disdain for their foolishness. The villagers made way for her and bowed as she passed.

"My lord Dolgailon," she said in a soft voice that cut over the clamoring villagers. Then she silently watched Dolgailon tense and say a few more words to the people nearest him, before turning to her. Keeping her expression bland, she studied him as carefully as she could while approaching him. His last visit to the village was uncomfortable in its timing, at best, so soon after the debacle that her plans for Legolas had become. Add on to that his unfortunate discovery of her purchase of those horses, and the visit was nearly disaster. She needed those horses in those villages for her current plans to work. Fortunately, he brought horses for the villages himself.

Still, she had trouble determining if his attitude towards her during that visit stemmed solely from his discovery of her 'illegal trade' or if he, and therefore the king, since Dolgailon did not seem capable of independent thought, had discovered something more. That was her primary worry. She had no idea how thoroughly Thranduil questioned Mauril or Lagril before their deaths. Rumor said they died in battle, without speaking to anyone. Her last remaining source of information in the stronghold, such that it was, seemed certain Lagril died before Thranduil spoke to him. They saw him die, so they claimed. But Mauril and especially Pelin, who the king had killed personally... She knew nothing for certain of how they died. And given that Thranduil had been willing to abuse Fuilin to make him speak, he might have done the same, in earnest, to either Pelin or Mauril and actually learned something significant.

Coming to stand before Dolgailon and Galithil, she drew and released a deep, calming breath, in an effort to control herself. Thranduil would pay. Soon.

"Lady Moralfien," Dolgailon said in response to her greeting. His tone was distinctly stiff, but he managed the half-bow that seemed rung from him during his last visit.

Galithil, on the other hand, bowed to her properly and even had a pleasant smile on his naive little face.

That made her answering curtsy all the more easy.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your return, my lord?" she asked, now gazing directly into Dolgailon's eyes. He was her same height. Shorter than Oropher had been, despite looking so much like him with that absurd silver hair. Like an old man's, she thought, though she could not deny, even to herself, that was not entirely true. The silver hair of the House of Thingol gleamed like True Silver. She shook off that thought.

She had more important things to concentrate on. For example, how she would convince Dolgailon to leave her in charge of this village, if his return signified that he intended to reclaim rule of it. That was certainly what she expected him to say, but she could not allow it. Not when her plans were so close to fruition. She would have to persuade him differently. Of course, persuasion was never something she found difficult.

"I have a favor to ask of you, in truth, my lady," he replied as Seregon led off their horses.

Manadhien frowned, following the six horses with her eyes. Four guards. Why four guards for two people? She belatedly scanned the guards' faces and could not restrain a sigh of relief. None of them would know her. Then she focused on Dolgailon's words. "A favor?" she repeated, genuinely surprised. "How may I be of service, my lord?" She did not care when his expression registered annoyance, likely due to the assumption that her sigh arose from an unwillingness to do him, or his family, any favors. He was correct if he though that, so no harm done.

"The king wants Galithil," he gestured to his brother. "I believe you have met?" he interrupted himself.

She nodded.

"We have met," Galithil confirmed with a bright smile and another nod to her.

She found she could not help but smile back at him.

"The king wants Galithil educated in the governance of villages," Dolgailon continued. "He asked me to bring him to this village, since it is one of the largest, with the most complex administration and defense, so that he might learn."

The momentary relief Manadhien had felt at the mention of a favor fled. The favor still required her to relinquish rule of this village. She did not allow her reaction to show on her face. "So you intend to reclaim the leadership of the village to teach him," she said to buy herself a moment to devise an argument against that plan.

She could, perhaps, suggest another village. A smaller one, she thought. But she immediately disregarded that idea. It might sound insulting and it would not do to arouse their anger by insulting them. Galithil might learn more about a wider variety of villages by working with Golwon rather than staying one one village in particular. That was a good starting point, but surely one the king had already though of and discarded. Why would he have rejected that idea and how could she counter his arguments? Her mind raced, formulating a defense.

"In truth, my lady, therein lies the need for a favor," Dolgailon said, interrupting her thoughts. "I simply do not have time to manage this village, teach Galithil and command the patrols. We were hoping that you would be willing to allow Galithil to serve you and to teach him as he does so."

That request caused Manadhien stare at Dolgailon. "You want me to teach him?" she repeated. The king was delivering his foster son directly into her awaiting arms? It was impossible to trust that sort of luck. Something had to be wrong with this request. She turned her mind to determining what it might be.

"I would not be too great a burden, my lady, I assure you," Galithil hastened to say. "Indeed, I might even be of some useful service to you. I have served the king's court for over fifteen years, first as just a scribe, but for the last few years as a member of his council. And I have served the Troop Commander's office for equally as long. I have some idea how both petitions and defense are managed. I really just need to learn more about the specific needs of villages, especially those in the south. It is so different here than near the stronghold." He paused and took a step towards her. "I suggested to the king that this village would be the best place for me to learn, not just because it was my adar's, but mostly because you suggested to me once that you would be willing to work with me. Remember? When Legolas and I last visited the village? I hope I was correct that you were being sincere and not simply offering empty promises. You seem too honest for such things," he concluded with that same, guileless smile.

She studied him narrowly. If the child had suggested it, perhaps it was a fortunate opportunity and not a trap.

"You will be leaving him here?" she asked, speaking to Dolgailon.

He shook his head immediately, barely concealing a horrified expression. "He is under age and still requires a guardian," he explained. "I will be staying in the village to supervise him."

"And so you will be managing the patrols from this village?" Manadhien asked. That had advantages as well. Did Dolgailon tense at that question?

"I will," he replied. His tone carefully measured once again. "As well as the defense of this village," he added.

Galithil seemed surprised by that. His head turned sharply to look over his shoulder at his brother.

Dolgailon smiled thinly. "I will concede that Manadhien is more experienced than I in the governance of the village," he said. "But I think I am a more experienced captain than she."

Galithil turned back to her. He appeared worried.

Manadhien said nothing, weighing their proposal. If she had been wondering only moments ago how to draw out Galithil, here he was. So was the Troop Commander. They both had willingly come to swords range. Dolgailon wanted command of the village guard. Well, he could imagine he had it, with Seregon and his few foolish guards. The baulk of the guards were still loyal to her and would take her orders over his when it came to that. And with Dolgailon here, she would have troop orders originating from her village. But she would have Galithil nosing in all her business. And likely Dolgailon too. They seemed fairly set on this idea. The likelihood of changing their minds seemed slim. She made her decision.

"I would be happy to teach him, of course," she agreed, smiling at Galithil.

He bowed to her again. "Thank you," he said.

She nodded. She would see what benefit she could derive from this arrangement. At least it allowed her to continue with her current plans, relatively undeterred. It might even speed them up considerably, depending. "Once you are settled in your talan, call on me in mine. I will introduce you to the village accounts and the most recent issues we have been managing.

"I will be there directly, my lady," Galithil replied. And he spoke with the same deferntial tone she long heard directed at Fingolfin and later Fingon.

She did like Galithil. He was always respectful. Pity. With a departing curtsy, she turned towards her flet.

* * *

Galithil watched Manadhien walk away and loosed a long, quiet sigh of relief. She had accepted their plan. Now he had only to work with her for a month. And try to figure out who was spying for her. Yes, only that. Still, he could not help but at least hope the hard part was over.

His thoughts were interrupted when, after a few more words to several villagers, Dolgailon drew him aside with an almost painfully tight grasp on his shoulder. Instead of walking towards their own talan, he led him to an unoccupied corner of the village courtyard. Once they were safely away from lurking ears, Dolgailon leaned closer, whispering right into his brother's face.

"Are you mad?" he asked. "You do remember that you are speaking to an elleth that is personally responsible for killing our aunt's parents and who ordered the deaths of at least five others, one of whom was our uncle?"

Galithil's brows drew together severely before he stopped himself. They were still in too public a location to openly argue. "Not to mention the elleth that ordered Legolas, who is every bit as much my brother as you are, sold to men. Of course I remember that," he answered back, his words clipped. "I also remember that our plan to keep watch over her for the next month depends on her willingness to essentially apprentice me. No one wants a rude, arrogant apprentice. Especially Manadhien. She is impressed with manners. I learned that quickly the last time I spoke with her. So that is what I am giving her."

"Do not overplay your part," Dolgailon said, still with a disgusted tone.

"My ability to play this part well will save you from the need to execute two elves, Dolgailon," Galithil retorted in a low whisper, fixing his older brother with an even glare. "Do not forget that if Manadhien bolts, you must go directly after Fuilin. And, worse still, Glilavan, who was your friend for five hundred years. You told the king that you could manage executing him. Perhaps you could. But would you not prefer to avoid that deed if at all possible?"

Now Dolgailon's brow knit, but not from anger. From concern. "Let me worry about what happens if Manadhien flees," he said softly. "Let me worry about everything to do with her. You do as the king ordered and limit your interactions with her to the minimum required to support this ruse."

Galithil nodded, but pulled away from Dolgailon's grasp. "I will do as the king ordered. And I will be the judge of what those minimum interactions are and how I behave during them. You brought me here. Let me do my part."

Dolgailon loosed a heavy sigh. "I intend to," he said. "Come. Let us find Seregon. He and I will show you how we order the defense of this village. Pay careful attention. If we are attacked while we are here-and that is always a possibility this far south," he lowered his voice to a whisper and glanced into the branches, "and not only because she is here-but if we are attacked, I will expect you to fight as you did on our way here." He turned and walked off towards a talan in the center of the southern side of the village.

Galithil could not suppress a broad smile, proud of the trust Dolgailon had placed in him, both traveling and now, to help protect the village. And that reminded him of another topic. "Dolgailon," he called. "Do you really intend to send me directly to the Western Patrol? That is what Morillion seemed to expect."

"I do," Dolgailon responded. "I judge that your swordsmanship and focus warrant it. This journey proved that to me." Then he looked sidelong at Galithil. "Assuming that you intend to join a patrol."

"I told you that I would," Galithil said. "At least until I have learned to fight."

"Well, learn you will in the Western Patrol."

Galithil did not doubt that. He felt a swell of pride that his brother thought him skilled enough to join a patrol. The Western Patrol, no less. They encountered enemies almost every day. And not just wicked men, fleeing justice in Dale or Esgaroth. But spiders and, especially in their southern range, even orcs. Dolgailon often joked that he intended to send both Galithil and Legolas directly to a patrol instead of one of the Guards, where most new warriors first served. He had even made those jokes in the King's presence. Galithil doubted anyone had ever even suspected Dolgailon was serious.

"Do you intend to send Legolas to a patrol too?" he asked.

Dolgailon nodded as he pulled down a rope ladder that appeared to be the only access to the talan they now stood under.

"May I ask which one? Also the Western Patrol?"

Now Dolgailon shook his head. "You and Legolas and I will never serve in the same patrol. And only in dire need would the three of us fight on the same battlefield with the king. I am sending Legolas to the Northern Patrol."

Galithil's eyes widened. That patrol also regularly fought powerful enemies. Occasionally, even cold drakes or, more rarely, fire drakes that came down from the Ered Mithrin to hunt.

"His bowmanship will serve well in that patrol against drakes. Serving there is how I improved my archery skills," Dolgailon continued, echoing Galithil's thoughts.

"May I tell Legolas that?" he asked.

"You may," Dolgailon answered. "But it goes without saying that neither of you may mention this in the presence of the king. This is an argument that I intend to have with him only once and only when it is necessary. Not before."

Galithil could not blame his brother for that.

* * *

Lamplight danced across Legolas's face in the nearly silent Hall-the only noise was the scritching of his quill. It stopped, causing Thranduil to look up from his own reading. With his right hand, Legolas slid the petition response he had just finished to the end of the table, nearer Thranduil. With his left, he picked up the last petition.

Thranduil glanced over the paper Legolas passed him. He signed it without making any changes, waved it in the air a bit to dry the ink, folded it and set his seal on it. Then he placed it in the pile of finished correspondence to be given to the courier. Rather than returning to his work, he watched his son a moment. Legolas had already begun writing again. Thranduil was quite impressed with the ease with which Legolas moved through the work in front of him. Gone was the uncertainty he once displayed in this duty-the numerous questions he directed to Hallion, the long deliberation and multiple responses he offered for the king's consideration. Now, Legolas worked confidently and alone. Indeed, Hallion paid no attention to him, focused instead entirely on his own work.

Finishing the last petition, Legolas wiped the ink from his pen on a blotter with one hand and placed the paper he had written onto one of the two much smaller stacks in front of him. One stack held responses that Golwon or one of his assistants would hand deliver, once they were approved by the king. The other held petitions that Legolas deemed warranted the king's personal attention in court.

'I wonder if helping Golwon deliver those decisions to the villages, at least the safer northern and western ones, and might be a worthy duty for Legolas over the next year?' Thranduil thought as he watched his son. The decision to remove Legolas from the Training Program clearly weighed heavily on him. Thranduil had intended for it to do so, but that did not make it easy to watch. Giving Legolas more meaningful duties might make the next year more bearable for him. And helping Golwon would be good experience. It would serve to introduce Legolas to numerous village leaders and teach him to manage them, at least as far as they could be managed.

Legolas straightened the smaller stacks and then turned to straighten the stack he had placed in front of Thranduil. Only then did he notice all the papers were all signed and sealed.

He looked up at the king with an amused grin.

Thranduil smiled at him.

"Is there anything else you would like for me to help with?" Legolas asked.

Hallion shook his head without looking up from his own reading. "No. I am afraid there is nothing here you can help me with," he replied, laying his hand over his own stack of papers.

Legolas leaned closer to the king's steward, making to look over his shoulder. Hallion was analyzing Conuion's reports concerning the progress he made, thus far, in his search for their remaining spy.

Manadhien was not a topic Thranduil cared for his son to dwell upon. "Legolas, you should go spend some time merry making on the Green before dinner," he intervened.

Legolas turned a raised eyebrow on his father, making it clear that he recognized that suggestion for the diversion it was.

"Go spend time with your friends before your naneth becomes angry with me for giving her little elfling too much work and keeping him from his games on the Green," Thranduil added in a teasing voice-an effort at further distraction.

It worked. Legolas openly cringed at that description of himself, making a sour face. He rose quickly from his chair. "By your leave, then, my lord," he said, sketching a bow. He looked directly at Thranduil with an entirely too bland expression. "I will fetch my bow," he added. "I am certain I can find some lie-about, even at this early hour, to game with me."

Thranduil loosed a brief laugh in response to his son's intentionally provocative reference to those rowdy games at the Oak and nodded his permission for him to leave.

Legolas headed for the doors of the Hall and gestured for Colloth to stay where he was, idling at one of the back tables with Conuion, assuring him he would come back to fetch him before going outdoors.

Thranduil ran a thumb over the edges of the neatly stacked papers arranged on the table, ruffling through them. There was really little for him to do here. Except contemplate the same subject he was trying to make Legolas avoid. If Legolas could avoid it for a few more hours, perhaps he could as well.

"Legolas," he called, arresting his son's departure just as he reached the doors of the Hall.

"My lord?" Legolas responded, turning to face him fully.

"Fetch my bow as well. I believe you owe me a contest," he said, referring to the challenge he made...had a moon already passed since that conversation?

Legolas's eyes widened, no doubt in response to the idea that the king intended to game in the middle of the day. Or to publicly game at any time. "Not that I am reluctant to face you, my lord," he said. "I assure you that I am not. But if I am not mistaken, the Third Years would be using the archery range at this moment. Surely you do not intend to ask them to clear off only so that you may lose an archery contest?"

Thranduil laughed out loud at that arrogance. "There are targets under that Oak tree that we might use, are there not? What else would you reprobates shoot under there?"

Legolas's jaw fell open before he could stop himself. Colloth and Conuion turned in their chairs to face Thranduil. Even Hallion was looking at him with open amusement. "You intend to have this contest at the Oak?" Legolas asked. "You do understand the spectacle that this will cause?"

"And?" Thranduil replied.

Legolas grinned, bowed again, and left the Hall.

"Oh, I am coming to see this," Hallion said, dropping the paper in his hand and standing.

Thranduil smirked at him.

"If you will excuse me, my lord, I must retrieve some coins," he added, bowing and turning to leave through the secret door behind the throne without waiting for the king's leave to do so.

Thranduil's only response to that was to shake his head.

* * *

Standing under the great boughs of the Oak, Thranduil could not deny that he was surprised by exactly how correct Legolas had been to use the term 'spectacle.' Simply walking out of the stronghold, bow in hand, with his son, had garnered the attention of every elf within sight of the Gates. The questions began before they made it across the bridge. The instant Legolas confirmed they intended to have an archery contest, everyone that heard him scurried off to gather their friends and rush to the Oak.

Dollion, not surprisingly, was one of the first to appear, along with a good number of the Guard. Eying Thranduil somewhat nervously, Legolas's cousins and friends were the next to appear. Even Eirienil came, her mother with her and Golwon trailing behind them. After them came Hallion, who had fetched Engwe along with him. When the officers of the Training Program and their warriors began to appear, Thranduil raised an eyebrow. They were supposed to be on the training fields, as Legolas had already observed.

By the time Thranduil and Legolas were facing targets, the crowd that pressed around them was raucous. As raucous as battle. So raucous that Thranduil wondered if this would be a fair contest. As popular as it might be to watch Legolas compete, this level of distraction had to exceed anything he had ever experienced.

No need to worry about that.

Thranduil immediately learned that the reports he had heard of his son's skill with a bow were not exaggerated. Of course he knew that Legolas was very good. He taught him himself, after all. And he hunted with him at least twice a year for the spring and fall festivals. Legolas never failed to bring back a buck, since he was first allowed to participate in the hunts. Thranduil had seen he was an instinctive archer.

Still, he had not expected to be so vigorously challenged.

Legolas tied him twice speed shooting a stationary target. And twice more shooting targets tossed in the air.

Now, Thranduil stood with his hands on his hips, his own pride warring mightily with pride of his son, trying not to glare at him. Legolas could not suppress his grin, but he did have the good grace to keep his gaze directed at the ground. Aradunnon, the last person who came so very close to prevailing against the king in an archery contest, would have been openly gloating at this point.

The crowds around them were beyond frustration. Ties were difficult to bet on.

Thranduil considered suggesting they go to the Training Program's archery course to compete. All the warriors that were supposed to be training, and their officers, were standing around them, so they could do nothing more to interrupt them. He also considered calling for horses. On either the course or on horseback, he would easily best Legolas. His son had absolutely no experience shooting while moving, either running or on horseback, beyond drills in the Training Program. That fact soured the prospect of such competitions. Unequal contests never led to satisfying victories. Then he thought of another idea and looked at Legolas sidelong, while drawing a handful of arrows from his quiver.

"One more go," he said softly. "At either the stationary targets or the moving ones, your choice. But let us agree that we can draw arrows in any way we wish."

Somewhere behind him, Thranduil heard Hallion, Golwon, Engwe and Tirithion whisper to each other and then begin to call wagers over the number of arrows the king would now sink into the target. The numbers were high, as were the sums wagered. After a moment, Conuion laughed and joined in the betting.

Legolas glanced at them and raised a brow. He and Thranduil already competed drawing arrows from quivers on their back and stuck into the ground before them. They had already proven themselves equally fast and accurate at both. "Very well," he agreed with a suspicious tone.

He was right to be suspicious, as he would soon see, Thranduil thought, keeping his expression neutral.

"Stationary," Legolas added, opting for the easier of the two targets.

Thranduil only nodded and gestured for the targets to be set up.

Thranduil waited until all was ready-he did not want to spoil his uncles and old friend's bets, after all. Once the targets were in place, he positioned the six arrows from his quiver in his right hand-the hand he used to draw his bow-and continued to hold them as he fit one against his string. Then he checked to make sure at least twelve more arrows remained in his quiver.

A murmur arose in the crowd.

"What in all of Arda are you doing, adar," Legolas whispered to him.

"Preparing to slaughter you," Thranduil boasted, no longer able to contain himself. "You are an outstanding archer and no denying it. But I have been doing this, in war, for much, much longer than you. This is a style of shooting that I learned, perforce, during the War of Wrath. From a Noldo, I am constrained to admit. I think you will appreciate it. Or at least you will after you recover from how badly you will now be beaten."

Legolas loosed an insulted little puff of air, but his wary expression did not fade.

"Ready?" Tirithion asked, his tone anticipatory. No doubt anxious to collect his winnings.

Legolas and Thranduil both nodded.

At Tirithion's signal, they began loosing arrows. Legolas had chosen to draw his arrows from the ground before him, and he was faster shooting that way than drawing from his quiver. But each shot still required Legolas to pull the arrow from the ground and fit it to his string before he could draw.

Shooting as he was now, holding six arrows ready in his hand, Thranduil cut out one motion-the need to draw from quiver or ground. He had only to shift his arrows from his grip to the bowstring and draw. In that manner, he released all six arrows in his hand before Legolas sent three of his own flying to his target. Reaching into his quiver, Thranduil drew another handful of arrows, released each one and drew another handful, hitting his target ten more times before Tirithion called the end of the game.

Legolas stared at the targets as a uproarious cheer overtook the crowds around them. As the last time he shot this way, his twelve arrows were neatly grouped in the center of his target. Sixteen arrows pierced Thranduil's, some splitting others in order to make room inside the small inner circle.

"How did you do that?" Legolas demanded, spinning towards him. "Show me how you did that."

Many of the nearest young warriors, along with Legolas's cousins and Isteth, also pressed in closer, repeating that request.

With a smile, Thranduil raised his bow and the remaining few arrows in his hand. He allowed Legolas and the others to study how he held the spare arrows while one was fit against his string. Then, he drew, released and slowly demonstrated how he shifted another arrow into position against the string to shoot it. He repeated the process slowly until all his arrows were spent.

"Shooting in this manner makes a tremendous difference when one is facing thousands, rather than simply dozens, of orcs," he remarked with a very serious tone.

"No doubt," Legolas replied, but he was already trying to juggle a handful of arrows to test the motion required to move them to his bowstring.

"I will teach you," Thranduil promised him.

"You certainly will," Legolas replied without looking away from his arrows.

"All of us," Berior, Brethil and Eirienil chimed in. Anastor and Noruil remained silent, but they also looked hopefully at the king.

"I would like to learn that, as well, my lord," Isteth added.

Like Legolas, they were all experimenting with how to hold the spare arrows while drawing.

"Of course," Thranduil replied. Then he tapped Legolas on the shoulder with an arm of his bow. "I won," he said quietly.

Legolas turned a narrow look on him. It quickly melted into a grin. "You cheated," he whispered. "Give me some time to practice this and we shall see who wins."

"Oh!" Thranduil exclaimed, grasping his son by the back of his neck and giving him a light shake. "You are mightily arrogant. Be careful or I might be inspired to give you my personal tutelage in matters of war during the year your training is suspended."

"That would be very acceptable," Legolas replied, squirming slightly under his father's hand.

"Be careful," Thranduil repeated, throwing his arm fully over his shoulders and pulling him off towards the Gates.

"Be careful," Arthiel whispered into Legolas's ear.

Thranduil laughed. Since she was the same age as her husband, Dolgailon, and had been one of his best friends in his childhood, she would understand that threat better than most.

* * *

Weapons still in hand, the king's family returned to the stronghold to find Lindomiel exiting the Great Hall, apparently in search of them, or at least the king, given her expression.

"I wish I had bet on that!" Berior was shamelessly saying as they stepped into the antechamber.

That elicited a growl of warning from Thranduil.

"Torthil bet," Eirienil replied. "And he always bets against Legolas, so he must be pleased. Indeed, I imagine that he wishes he bet more this time. He has lost so much in the past that he must make the most out of any win."

"If he won enough to stop harassing me, that might make the loss worth it to me," Legolas grumbled, but his grin betrayed the fact that he was not truly annoyed.

"Especially if you can master that technique and use it in future contests to win more yourself," Hallion said, winking at Legolas.

Thranduil raised his hand from his son's shoulder and pointed at his steward. "Enough," he declared in a stern voice.

As Thranduil spoke, Legolas dodged out of his father's reach before nodding at his uncle. "Too right," he agreed.

"I will not teach you, if that is how you plan to employ my lessons," Thranduil retorted. He was not jesting. He would not tolerate his children gambling.

"You already taught me enough," Legolas replied. "All I need now is practice."

"Mercy!" Thranduil exclaimed. "What must I do to curb your arrogance, child?" He made a mock lunge towards him, as if to grab him again.

"Thranduil!" Lindomiel cried, her voice high-pitched. "What are you doing to our son and what are the lot of you shouting about while carrying weapons in the middle of the day?"

Everyone, including Thranduil, straightened up in response to that sharply delivered question and the open concern that accompanied it.

A moment later, Hallion and Engwe made odd noises that sounded very much like choking.

Golwon cleared his throat and carefully avoided the queen's gaze.

Legolas, Eirienil and Berior glanced at Thranduil with bright eyes before also frowning very seriously.

"Adar and I just had an archery contest, nana," Legolas answered in a soft, matter-of-fact voice, stepping between his cousins and his mother to block her view of them. "It was a very good contest. We are simply discussing that."

Eirienil and Berior nodded guilelessly.

Thranduil blinked and stared at them. "How is it that I have never seen before how easily you turn from debauchery to perfect innocence?" he asked.

"Because normally we are concealing the debauchery from you, not creating it with you," Legolas whispered sidelong to him when his cousins remained silent.

This time, Hallion and Engwe openly laughed.

Thranduil adopted his sternest glare, but Legolas did not look away, nor did his expression falter, at least not beyond a slight twitch of his lips.

"This would please Oropher to see," Engwe said in an uncharacteristically cheerful tone into the silence. "He always wanted Thranduil to have a son that was just like him."

"Quite true," Hallion agreed.

Thranduil turned his glare on them and then loosed one, quiet laugh while shaking his head when neither elf moderated his expression in the slightest.

Lindomiel was smiling at them. "Your messenger to Lothlorien has returned," she announced, gesturing towards the Hall. "Along with a guest, who he says he escorted from Imladris. The guards fetched me when they could not find you. I made them comfortable in the Hall and was going to find you myself."

Thranduil sobered instantly. "Thank you, my lady. I may be late for dinner. Do not hold it for me." With a nod to the rest of his family, he headed towards the doors of the Hall.

Legolas thrust his bow and quiver into Berior's hands and followed on the king's heels. "May I hear this, my lord?"

Thranduil held out a hand to stay Conuion from opening the doors to the Hall while he considered that request. He preferred the sight of his son laughing and he doubted this report would be amusing. Thranduil sent this messenger to Lothlorien to ask Galadriel about Manadhien, now that he had a proper name for her and her family members that Galadriel might better recognize. As much as Thranduil might not like it, it was Legolas's place to hear what ever news the messenger carried. "You may," he replied, and gestured for Conuion to open the doors. Legolas accompanied Hallion through them.

A travel-worn messenger sat with a tray of refreshments at one of the tables near the back of the room. When he saw the king, he stood and that movement revealed the person sitting beside him.

Thranduil's brows went up. It was an elleth. When the messenger bowed, she curtsied, but when she looked up at him, he saw a sight that he had seen only two or three times in the last two ages of this world. The light of Aman shown in this elleth's eyes. And she was no Maia, like Radagast or Mithrandir. She was an Elf. That meant she came to Middle Earth in only one manner.

Thranduil had to make a conscious effort to unclench his jaw before he could speak. "I am very glad to see you returned safely," he said, directing himself to the messenger. "And who is this that has returned with you? From Imladris, I have been told." He kept his tone polite, but could manage nothing more.

"My lord, this is Helindilme. The lady Galadriel suggested I go to Imladris to find her. She knew Ulcamarto well. Lady Galadriel thought, under the circumstances, someone who knew them better than she did herself, might be worth speaking to. And Helindilme agreed to come here to answer any questions you might have."

"Is that so?" Thranduil said, turning his gaze on the elleth. His natural inclination was to be suspicious of that offer. He was suspicious of anyone associated with Manadhien. Or the Exiled.

The elleth studied him in turn a moment and then held out a letter that bore Elrond's seal. "Lord Elrond asked me to carry this letter. In it, he says he has vouched for my character. I could not imagine why that might be necessary..." She let her voice trail off when Thranduil's harsh expression did not change.

Hallion reached for the letter she offered.

"Suppose you tell me what Lord Elrond has written," Thranduil replied, trying to make his voice pleasant and moving to seat himself. He gestured for his guests to do the same. Legolas sat to his immediate left and Hallion to his right. Conuion stood behind his chair.

Helindilme shrugged. "Very well, my lord. I am a healer, as was my atar."

Thranduil flinched, even in response to one word of that language.

"I have served in Imladris since it was founded. I served in Ost-in-Edhil and in Nargothrond before that, so I know my profession well enough to be a skilled surgeon when necessary. And I have helped to heal many who were prisoners of Morgoth. But I prefer to study herbs." She paused when Thranduil's expression still did not alter. "We know each other, though you are unlikely to remember me, even after I remind you." She looked at Hallion. "But your steward should remember me. I was the healer that helped Nestoreth treat you in Mordor when you were struck in the head by that orc's mace. I sat with you for three days and nights before you awakened."

"That is why I know your face," Hallion murmured, visibly relaxing. "No wonder I could not place it. I would not associate a lady with the memories I have of Mordor."

"Yet many of the healers in Mordor were ellyth, including your own," Helindilme responded.

Thranduil took a deep breath. "And what can you tell me of Manadhien, Ulcamarto and the rest of their family?" he asked, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

"I can tell you little of...what did you say she is calling herself? Manadhien? I knew her as Manarinde, but I had very few dealings with her. The only times I spoke to her was when I treated her atar. He, on the other hand, I knew well. He was Alcaremarto when I met him, just after he crossed the Ice."

"They crossed the Ice?" Hallion interjected. "Are you certain? I would have guessed they came in the boats with Feanor. I thought all his followers did, and we understood her adar to be a servant of Curufin."

Legolas nodded, leaning forward. Outwardly his composure was within the limits Thranduil expected him to maintain in court, but those who knew him would easily read his eagerness. The prospect of tales of the Crossing of the Ice, told by someone who directly remembered it, clearly piqued his curiosity.

"I am quite certain," she replied. "My atar and I came in the boats with Feanor. Alcaremarto and his family were not on them. And I treated them for the damage the cold and sharp ice did to them. They definitely crossed the Ice."

Thranduil heard little past her first words. "You and your adar were servants of Feanor?" he asked, his tone enough to make Hallion cast him a concerned glance. Servants of Feanor in his Hall! That, he would not tolerate, no matter how useful the information she might have could be. He would not, for any reason, remain in the presence of someone who willingly served Feanor or his sons.

Helindilme returned his gaze calmly. "Healers, like my atar and I, Feanor knew were not useless baggage upon the road. Not when he faced battle with Morgoth. He asked several of us to go with him and many did. My father agreed to go out of pity for those that he knew would be grievously wounded in the battles to come. And I went with him. I was still his apprentice then. We thought, from Feanor's words, that we would go to Middle Earth for a brief time and then return to Aman quickly after Morgoth was defeated."

That elicited a derisive snort from Thranduil.

"But as for Ulcamarto," the messenger interjected, "however he came to Middle Earth, the lady Galadriel told me that he fought willingly along side the sons of Feanor in Alqualonde. And not believing, as some of Fingolfin's people did, that he was defending his kin from Olwe's guards, who had attacked the Noldor to prevent them from leaving. Lady Galadriel said she heard Feanor order a group of elves, Ulcamarto and Oromarto included, to capture a ship and they did it. And she said Ulcamarto was very bitter when, after helping the battle in such a manner, he was left behind to cross the Ice."

"That is true," Helindilme confirmed. "I heard Alcaremarto complain of that slight myself. Still, he was anxious to serve Feanor again. Alcaremarto might have come to Middle Earth to destroy Morgoth. Those were the words he said. But he was ambitious. He sought recognition for his deeds. A name for himself. A realm to rule as he would, though he was lord of nothing more than his own household in Aman. Almost immediately after meeting Curufin in the camps at Lake Mithrim, he determined that he preferred him over Fingolfin. Curufin valued his swordsmanship in the defense of our camp far more than Fingolfin seemed to, or so I heard him say. In the end, Alcaremarto and Oromarto fought with Curufin through the Dagor Bragollach, when they were captured. They were held in Angband for nearly four years before they escaped."

"Or were let go," Thranduil muttered.

"That is entirely possible. I treated him in Nargothrond when he returned there. By that point, his thoughts had been completely twisted by Morgoth. He saw injustice everywhere. He was determined to seek greatness, felt thwarted at every turn while doing so, and that was the weakness Morgoth sought to exploit to turn him to his service. He promised him greatness where others refused it. That, I know. Alcaremarto confirmed it when I was treating him. Morgoth may have been successful in swaying him to his service. We-the healers that served in Nargothrond-could not be certain. That is why the petition that he and his son be permitted to remain in Nargothrond was denied. Naturally, he saw that as another injustice."

"If I may," the messenger said, leaning forward again. "The lady Galadriel mentioned this topic to me as well. She told me that she was in Doriath, in court, serving Melian, when Ulcamarto and his family-all of them-the father and all three children-sought refuge there. They were refused..."

"Because the High King was no fool," Thranduil said.

"Because lord Oropher stepped forward to testify that he heard from his friend, Tureden, that Alcaremarto and Oromarto had been prisoners in Angband and were exiled from Nargothrond because of it. Tureden was called in to confirm that and, when he did, they were escorted to the border and turned out of Doriath as well," the messenger concluded.

Thranduil loosed a low whistle.

"That might explain some of their hatred for daeradar," Legolas whispered.

Hallion nodded.

"Alcaremarto certainly would have read that as another injustice," Helindilme said. "But I did not see them again for a long while. I escaped the sack of Nagothrond, and was allowed to refuge in Doriath. I escaped its sack, as well, and refuged in Sirion. That is where I finally saw Manarinde again-when it was attacked."

"In the kinslaying, where Dolgailon told us that Manadhien admits she saw her father fall, which means she had to be participating in it herself," Thranduil said softly.

"Not necessarily, my lord," Helindilme said. "I saw many people fall in that battle, and I tried to heal all that were not beyond help, yet I never lifted a weapon then or at any other time in my life. Perhaps Manarinde is guilty of nothing more in that battle than seeing her atar fall. And if that is so, it is surely a grief you understand."

That comment, sharply delivered and unlooked for, made Thranduil sit back in his chair and sent an all too familiar stab of pain through his chest.

"That was uncalled for," Legolas exclaimed, in a half shocked, half outraged tone.

"Do not dare invoke memories of our late king to defend kinslayers in this court," Hallion commanded.

But their corrections were unneeded. Distress and concern flooded Helindilme's face the instant she realized the reaction her words had produced. "I beg your pardon, lord," she said gently, leaning forward and reaching a hand along the surface of the table towards him until Conuion's step forward checked her movement. "Of course I know that such wounds never truly heal, but I did not expect this one to still be so fresh. It was never my intent to tear it open."

Her eyes searched his and Thranduil felt as if they even brushed his fea, but not in a way that alarmed him or felt like an intrusion. Not as Galadriel had looked into him in the past. Helindilme's was merely a healer's appraising, even soothing, gaze. He forced himself to relax.

Helindilme looked down at the table. "I can say for certain that Manarinde was destroyed by her atar's death," she continued in a very subdued voice. "She found me helping the wounded and all but dragged me to him." She shook her head and Thranduil could see from her pinched expression that she was looking in her mind at Alcaremarto's body. "His throat was slashed by a sword or a long knife, at least. There is no doubt that his fea fled his body before the weapon that made that wound came to the end of its swing."

'My weapon,' Thranduil thought, all too aware that Hallion, Legolas and Conuion knew that too. What they may not realize was that weapon rested, even now, in a chest at the foot of his bed. Thranduil found it a little difficult to draw breath.

"You said she saw it happen?" Helindilme asked.

"So she told my cousin," Legolas whispered when Thranduil did not reply.

Helindilme released a shuddering breath. "Then I truly pity her and I understand better the strength of her reaction. There was nothing I could do for him, of course, but Manarinde would not be satisfied until I tried. So, for her sake, I spent a moment acting as if I would do my best to revive him. She was inconsolable when I naturally could not. Incoherent. I had to give her over to a warrior to get her away from the battle so she would not be killed herself."

There, Helindilme fell silent. No one spoke. Legolas and Hallion looked to Thranduil to do so, but he could not.

"I saw Manarinde again, briefly," Helindilme continued after what seemed to be a long silence. "Many years later when we both lived in Ost-in-Edhil. She thanked me for my efforts for her atar, but she seemed a different person. When I looked into her eyes, her fea was...remote. I do not know what crime she is accused of here, but I fear whatever it is, it would not surprise me. I would go so far as to say that Manarinde's fea seemed deeply shadowed when last I saw her."

The messenger nodded. "So said the lady Galadriel. She told me a bit more of Manadhien in Ost-in-Edhil, where she knew her best. By the time they lived there, both she and her sister were entirely like their father-ambitious and selfish. They allied themselves easily with Celebrimbor's rise to power in Ost-in-Edhil and craved what ever prestige they could gain by their association with Annator. The lord Celeborn said he remembered both Manadhien and her sister were completely dedicated to Annatar's teachings. They spent all their time in the forge. Lord Celeborn said they were both heavily influenced by him, and not only in metal craft." This last, the messenger said with a foreboding tone that sounded more like Celeborn's than his own.

"I too believe her to be influenced by him. Perhaps even allied to him," Thranduil said quietly. Then, after moment's consideration, he decided to answer Helindilme's implied question concerning what Manadhien stood accused of. She had earned the answer, after traveling from Imladris to Eryn Galen to speak to him. "In my realm alone," he said, directing himself to her, "she killed my wife's parents with her own hands and ordered her servants to kill my cousin Celonhael, his two guards and two novice warriors. She also arranged for men to abduct first my wife and, later, my son. Her stated goal is to make me watch my entire family die."

Helindilme's face went slack through that litany of crimes. But when Thranduil reached Manadhien's last crime, her gaze darted to Legolas. "Your son?" she sounded confused. "Lord Elrond told me something of your realm when I agreed to travel here. He said you had only one son." She shook her head and looked back at Thranduil. "Manarinde did not attack..." She cut herself off and turned again to Legolas. "Respectfully, my lord, though you clearly serve this court, I would have guessed that you...well, at least were very young. Too young...well, of course any attack of an elf against an elf is evil, but one against a...someone so young seems worse, somehow."

Legolas smiled, frankly amused by Helindilme's struggle to not insult him by publicly naming him a child. "I will not be offended by the truth, Helindilme," he replied. "I am, in fact, still a child. And I think most of the populace agrees the attack against me was all the worse because of that."

Thranduil's jaw clenched involuntarily as his son fell under the same close scrutiny from the Noldo that he had endured only moments before. Legolas's smile faded and his brow puckered as Helindilme continued studying him. Her expression again clouded with concern.

"That experience, whatever happened during it, has left a deep scar across an otherwise unblemished fea," she whispered. "Very deep." She sat back, and looked from Legolas, whose brows were now high on his forehead, to Thranduil, who was all but bristling.

"My son is my concern, Helindilme. Our healer, Nestoreth, has seen to him," he snapped.

Helindilme regarded him sadly. "Do not allow your own acceptance of the damage inflicted by two kinslayings and two wars to color your expectations for your son's healing. His scars might yet fade, given the proper medicine."

Thranduil's muscles tensed, as if to pounce. Indeed, only conscious effort on his part prevented exactly that response.

"Not to worry," Legolas intervened, his voice firm. "Our king understands what I, and everyone else in this forest touched by the Shadow, need to escape its influence and he ensures that we have it. That fight is something the elves living in this forest understand very well."

Helindilme inclined her head, conceding. "I have seen so many, including Manarinde's atar, and apparently Manarinde herself, so terribly damaged by Morgoth's evil, I cannot restrain myself from responding when I see such wounds. I have been a healer a very long time, after all."

Enough, Thranduil thought to himself. He stood, raising everyone else to their feet. "I greatly appreciate your willingness to travel such a long distance in order to speak to me on such disturbing topics. Your information was very valuable. If there is any way that I can repay you..."

She immediately shook her head. "I ask for nothing, my lord. I am happy to help, both you and her. Understanding how her fea came to be so badly damaged will help Nestoreth treat her. I would be happy to speak to her about that before I return to Imladris. I have a good deal of experience treating those that escaped from Angband. I will see what advice I can give her."

"Again, I thank you," Thranduil replied. There was no need to further shock the innocent by revealing that he had no expectation Manadhien could be healed.

Helindilme glanced at Legolas as Conuion stepped forward to escort her from the Hall. "I also have a great deal of experience treating those who have experienced violence at the hands of elves," she hurried to say.

Legolas smiled at her and spoke before Thranduil could reply. "I am recovering, Helindilme. Truly. However, if you have time before you return to Imladris, I would love to hear any tales you would be willing to tell of your past. I always enjoyed my history lessons. All my cousins and I did."

"You have only to name a topic and I would be happy to indulge you. And your cousins, if they live nearby," she replied. "Perhaps you will allow me to tell you some stories of Aman. I met Yavanna once. Would hearing of that meeting interest a woodelf?"

Legolas's eyes widened before he controlled himself. "It would indeed." Then he glanced at Thranduil and his face clouded. "I am certain you are anxious, after such a long journey, to eat and rest. Perhaps we could speak tomorrow."

Helindilme nodded and curtsied to Thranduil before allowing Conuion to escort her out.

Thranduil gestured for Hallion to go with her. After studying Thranduil with open concern, and then only reluctantly, Hallion complied and Thranduil heard him saying to her that he would call Galion to make arrangements for her room and lodging.

Their departure left only Legolas in the Hall. At the moment, Thranduil wanted to be entirely alone. That conversation had stirred memories he had hoped were forever buried. "You should go speak with her tonight," he said without looking at his son. "Introduce her to the merrymaking on the Green and show her that our people-and you-are not as shadowed as she fears."

Legolas shook his head. "I am going no where, adar," he replied, his voice nearly a whisper.

Only with supreme effort did Thranduil stifle a frustrated growl. He was immediately relieved that he managed it. Legolas did not need to see his father struggling, three ages of the world later, with the same guilt he so recently was forced to confront. Seeing the pain it still caused him would not help Legolas. Thranduil fought to compose himself.

He felt a hand grasp his shoulder. "You have done so much to help me bear all that I have seen over the last month. Will you not allow me to offer what ever support, or at least understanding, that I can now?"

Thranduil loosed a derisive snort. Understanding? Yes, they both understood that his own actions drove Manadhien to seek the revenge she now pursued.

"I know what you are thinking, adar," Legolas pressed. "But, like me, you did what you were forced to do to defend yourself and your people. You are not responsible for Manadhien's evil."

Thranduil forced himself to raise his gaze and look at his son levelly. Could he truly have this conversation with him? Unfortunately, he could. "Legolas, I killed her adar before her eyes. That is a grief I do understand, as this Noldo pointed out. I do not deny that I have some understanding of her hatred of me." He paused and frowned. "I always knew the phrase 'you did what you were forced to do' was empty words. I am duly reminded exactly how empty. I am sorry I could offer you nothing better."

"If you can find some pity for her, I would deem that good," Legolas replied quietly. "And that you, and I, did what we were forced to do is not an empty platitude. It will not erase the pain. That, I will admit. But it is still true and it grants us both some degree of absolution. As for the pain, here are more true words: if you feel pain...guilt for the deeds you were forced to, that is how you know you are better than Manadhien and other willing kinslayers. You said that to Anastor. Those words do not erase the pain either, but they help you understand it is a good thing."

Thranduil held his son's concerned gaze for a long moment. He was right, at least, that no words took away this pain. But, somehow, Legolas had made it recede at least a little for the time being.

"Come, adar, we can still make dinner."

The last thing Thranduil thought he could do was eat.

"Engwe, will be at the table. And Hallion should join us too. You should ask them both how much gold they won betting on you," Legolas continued, making his tone light. "You know, I think, since it is a disgrace that they bet at all, you should insist they place the coins they won into the public treasury. It would be the right thing to do. To give the proceeds of that gambling back to the people."

Despite himself, Thranduil imagined the look on Engwe's face if he suggested that he should turn over those coins to the treasury. And that picture forced a barking laugh from him. He reached to put an arm around Legolas's shoulders.

"I think you should tell your Uncle Engwe that yourself," he said, steering him out of the Hall.

* * *

AN: Thanks so much to everyone who favorites and follows and reviews. I really appreciate it so much. It makes my day, every time.

Mae govannen - Well met

elleth - female elf

adar - S. father

atar - Q. father

fea - spirit


	3. Ill news

**Chapter 3: Ill news**

Tulus slowly shifted his position, tucking his right leg underneath him and freeing his left to stretch it in front of him on the branch where he perched, all without taking his eyes off Manadhien's talan. He loosed a silent sigh. 'I spent too much of this age in the soft comfort of cottages and palaces,' he thought to himself. 'Guard duty never seemed this unpleasant in the past.'

He had been quite relieved a few days earlier-and not just for matters of comfort-when Tureden confirmed Gwathron and Mornil were the two brothers he remembered from Nargothrond. He was even more grateful to hear the king only intended to give Manadhien one more month of freedom. As much as the king, Tulus wanted her finished.

The long, high note of a tree cricket sounded from a few dozen paces south of him. The following long, low note never came.

Tulus straightened and looked over his shoulder.

The call repeated.

Tulus made eye contact with the spy sharing tonight's duty with him and they exchanged a silent nod. Then Tulus moved off, southward, seeking the origin of that call. After passing through several trees, he saw one of the elves he sent to Dol Guldur. One who was supposed to be watching Glilavan. His return to the village could not mean anything good. Tulus hurried to join him and they huddled together with their backs against a broad trunk, facing away from the village, hidden from it. Tulus raised a single eyebrow in silent query.

"The orcs killed our hawk," the spy whispered.

Tulus frowned. That was ill news. He drew a breath to ask if there was any other evidence that their presence in the south had been discovered.

The spy continued speaking, without pause. "And they have been questioning Glilavan. About the patterns of the patrol's movements and how they would respond to various angles of attack on several villages. They are planning something-something to do with those three groups of orcs we saw move north a dozen days ago, but we cannot get close enough to hear exactly what. It is definitely some sort of attack. They are massing and arming themselves."

"How many?" Tulus asked.

"Twice as many as were in the first groups. At least."

"Can you remain in place?"

The elf shook his head. "We had to pull back. We cannot surround the camp with only three of us. The spies I left are watching for signs of Glilavan and Fuilin moving west or north. We can do no better. We could watch the eastern paths if you could spare one more guard to aid us. The south is hopeless, obviously. We cannot position ourselves between the orcs and Dol Guldur."

Tulus frowned. He did not like it, but with Tureden staying here to help arrest Manadhien when the time came, not to mention Dolgailon and Galithil's guards, he could probably send one more spy south. "I will ask someone to go back with you. Wait here," he whispered.

The elf nodded and Tulus slipped through the trees, back to the village edge, to the tree he and his spies currently occupied while resting. He selected one of their number to go south and then considered the news he just heard. Definitely information the king needed and quickly. Dolgailon needed it too, in order to warn the Southern Patrol and reorder their patrol schedules to confound the orcs. He peered over a branch towards the talans and sounds of evening merrymaking. Dolgailon was right here, in the village. He leaned around the trunk of his tree. He could just see enough of Dolgailon's talan through the branches to be able to tell lamp light still made its curtains glow.

"What?" Tureden whispered, coming up behind Tulus and glancing between him and the village, searching for the danger he feared Tulus had spotted.

Tulus shook his head. "Nothing threatens them. I have news from the south. Trouble is brewing there. I am going to speak to the Troop Commander about it and prepare a message for the king."

Without waiting for Tureden's reply, Tulus climbed higher into the withered trees, as far as he dared while still expecting them to support his weight. The approach to Dolgailon's talan in the center of the village, across from the Hall, would be difficult, especially with revelers still merrymaking in the courtyard. He remained in the uppermost branches until he was nearly directly above his target. Then, he stopped and studied the surrounding trees for the best way down. He searched for the village guards in their normal positions and found them. They would be easy enough to evade from this angle, since their attention was focused on the village borders, not its center. He looked for his own spies. If they saw someone they could not identify descending on the Troop Commander's talan, they would raise an alarm. But they were currently either watching Manadhien in her talan or resting. They would not see him here. Finally, he located the King's Guard. He did not need to avoid them. They knew of his presence in the village. Still, it would not do to surprise them. Not if he wanted to avoid an arrow through his shoulder, at least. Once he had determined the best path down, he waited for a particularly lively piece of music to hold the villagers' attention. When they were all twirling happily in dance, he began his careful descent towards Galuauth, the guard in the trees above the talan.

He travelled less than half the distance down before an unexpected voice nearly startled him badly enough to cause him to lose his footing.

"Stop where you are," it ordered.

Tulus froze and his heart seized. The voice came from above him. It was one he did not recognize and so could not be a member of the King's Guard, unless it was a new one. If he were caught by anyone that might drag him before Manadhien, the outcome would be disasterous. He could not allow it. He turned his head towards the voice, keeping his hands in plain view, away from his weapons, while thinking fast for something to say to talk his way out of this.

A shadow slipped out of a tangle of old branches until lamplight from the courtyard lit his face.

Tulus tensed. It was one of the newer village guards-an elf come to the Greenwood from Lothlorien after Khazad-dum's fall. One who was loyal, but uninformedly so, to Manadhien. One who had not lived in the forest long enough to know Tulus.

"What do you think you are doing here?" the guard demanded, swiftly approaching until they shared the same branch. "Climbing around so near to lord Dolgailon's talan."

Tulus glanced at Galuauth, hoping for his aid to keep this guard quiet, since lord Dolgailon was who he seemed determined to protect. But no help would come from him. Galuauth made no indication he heard them over the music in the courtyard and Tulus dared not risk attracting more attention by calling to him. He would have to extricate himself from this situation. He drew himself up and adopted his most authoritative expression. "I ask you the same question. I am a member of the King's Guard. It is my duty to be so near lord Dolgailon." A lie, but Tulus doubted this guard would recognize it. The king had not made public any of Tulus's crimes, nor his dismissal from the Guard. Even if he had, this elf would not recognize his face to put it with his name. "What is your excuse for being here?" he asked in turn.

As he spoke, flash of hope surged through him. The guard looked nervous, almost panicked.

"I am Tharil, a village guard," he quickly explained. "Lady Moralfien ordered me to watch lord Dolgailon's talan tonight. To help guard it and make sure no one unauthorized approached it. She said the only people allowed near it were Galuauth," he gestured to him, "Lanthir, Heledir and Galudiron. That I should bring anyone else I saw to her." He eyed Tulus up and down. "What is your name? And why was lady Moralfien not informed of your presence in the village?"

"The King's Guard does what it deems necessary to keep the king's family safe," Tulus replied, ignoring the question of his name.

"That may be so, but how do I know you are one of the King's Guard?" Tharil asked, his suspicious tone returned. "Especially without your name. You do not bear any of the symbols of the King's Guard." He tapped his own buttons and cloak pin while studying Tulus's. Then his gaze shifted to the arrows in Tulus's quiver.

That was true enough. Tulus had given up the ornaments of that office when he left the stronghold for his current duty. He shrugged. "Only the Guards that directly accompany members of the king's family carry those symbols," he lied. "Those of us that are supposed to remain hidden do not. Come with me to lord Dolgailon's talan and ask him if I am one of the Guard. I was going to report to him."

Dolgailon would understand the need to hide Tulus's presence. He would play along. Tulus made to climb down to the next branch.

Tharil grabbed his arm. "Lady Moralfien asked me to keep my watch over lord Dolgailon a secret. And, as I already said, she told me to bring anyone unidentified that approached his talan to her. I think you had better come with me to speak to her."

Tulus wrested his arm from Tharil's grasp. "Nothing can compel me to abandon my oath to the king. If lady Moralfien wishes to speak to me, you can fetch her here." And if you leave to do so, I will not be here when you return, Tulus added silently. "If you intend to insist I leave my post, you must be prepared to do so with force."

Tharil frowned severely, obviously uncertain how to respond to that. "I am not leaving someone I cannot identify this close to lord Dolgailon's talan. Not after lady Moralfien set me to guard it to keep dangerous elves from approaching it." He looked down at Galuauth, still sitting a fair distance below them on his branch just above Dolgailon's balcony. "I suppose we could ask him to identify you," he said.

"Very well," Tulus agreed, stifling a sigh of relief. Like Dolgailon, Galuauth would understand the need to play along with Tulus's story.

Tharil nodded, satisfied. "Go straight down to the ground. We call Galuauth to us."

"So long as you do so quietly. Without drawing the attention of the entire village," Tulus replied, climbing down at an angle that led towards Galuauth, intending to stay hidden amongst the trees. If no one else saw him but this guard and Galuauth, this situation might yet be saved.

They were half way to the ground when two elves appeared, strolling down the path that led away from the courtyard, past Dolgailon's talan and deeper into the forest. At the sight of them, Tulus's heart raced. It was Gwathron and Mornil. He froze, shrinking closer against his tree while trying to determine what to do. Flee? Little chance of a clean escape with Tarthil in pursuit and raising the alarm. Hope to remain hidden? Again, something Tarthil would likely not allow. Shoot Gwathron and Mornil before they saw him? A fine idea, but attracting the attention of the entire village was what he wanted to avoid, lest Manadhien be alerted. Try the same story on them that he had used on Tarthil? It might work. They might not recognize him. He had never met them in Manadhien's presence. But it they had ever spied on he and Legolas... One more option: tell Tarthil everything, quickly, and pray he believes enough to be persuaded to remain quiet until they could speak to Dolgailon. That seemed to be the best solution. Tulus spun around to face the young guard, hands outstretched in a plea for silence. Before he spoke, Tharil called and waved to Gwathron and Mornil.

Tulus gathered himself to flee as they looked up to find the person calling their names.

Their eyes widened upon seeing Tulus. Gwathron pointed at him. "Throw him down!" he commanded. "He is one of the elves that threatened the king."

Tulus muttered a curse as he dodged from Tharil's grasp and reached for an arrow in his quiver. At this point, his duty was to do as much damage to Manadhien's web of servants as he could. And to contain her, if possible. He drew a breath to make the call he and his fellow spies planned to use if one of them were discovered. Fingers scrabbled at his ankle, grabbed it and yanked. The call turned into a gasp for breath before it was even made as Tulus slipped. He jerked away, freeing his leg and wrapped an arm around another branch to keep from falling. As he struggled to right himself, Tharil's hand connected with his shoulder, hard, and shoved. Tulus shifted, trying to maintain his footing, but he stumbled against Tarthil's calf. He fell backwards, over Tarthil's leg, off the branch and through the open air.

Forcing himself to relax and roll as his shoulder struck the ground, Tulus grunted as the drop knocked the air from his lungs. Even stunned, ages of experience as a warrior brought his right hand to grope for his weapons, but his body would not obey him. His arm remained immobile. He tried his left arm. It moved as it should and his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword.

Feet rushed in to surround him. The heel of a boot pressed down hard on his left wrist.

"Go tell Galuauth it was only a local troublemaker. Someone who often has a bit too much wine," Mornil's voice ordered, looming over him.

Tarthil's confused, "As you wish, my lord," followed in answer.

That was the last thing Tulus heard before something hard smashed against his temple and blinding pain claimed him.

* * *

"They fought three dozen orcs! At three separate times! In the course of three days travel!" Legolas cried, his voice rising with each exclamation.

"Your hearing is clearly intact," Engwe replied with a dry tone. "You have repeated accurately what I just summarized for the king."

In his peripheral vision, Thranduil saw Legolas glare at Engwe before turning his back to him in favor of leaning towards the king at the head of the table. He craned his neck to look over the top of the paper in Thranduil's hands, trying to read the details of Dolgailon's report.

"Did they report any injuries?" Legolas asked, reaching to pull down the top of the paper.

"The orcs were injured," Engwe responded. "Killed and burned. Dolgailon does not mention that he, Galithil or any of the guards were injured, so I assume they were not."

"Hmph," Legolas muttered. "Dolgailon would not be foolish enough to admit it if Galithil was injured."

"He would have to if he were badly injured," Berior whispered. "So we can be sure nothing serious happened, at least."

"Probably true," Legolas conceded, nodding at his cousin.

Thranduil stopped reading and crumpled Dolgailon's report in his fist. Then he took a deep breath to steady his voice before he spoke. "Berior had better be correct," he said softly. But he feared he might not be. Dolgailon might not put such news in a report, but rather send a messenger to deliver it more carefully, concerned for Lindomiel's reaction. Thranduil would react no differently. He had done nothing but worry over his decision to allow Galithil to go south since he watched him ride away from the capital. If he had been injured even before reaching the village...

Thranduil forced his thoughts away from what he could not yet confirm and focused on what he could address. "Do we have any evidence that Manadhien is responsible for this?" he asked, directing himself to Engwe and Hallion. Surely that could not be. She could not have known Dolgailon or Galithil would be near the western border to attack them. But under the circumstances, he had to be certain.

Engwe raised an eyebrow. "Did you have trouble understanding Dolgailon's writing?" he asked. "It seemed plain enough to me."

Now Thranduil glared at his uncle.

Engwe only returned his gaze steadily with an annoyed frown.

"Near the end of the report," Hallion hastily intervened, "Dolgailon mentions forged orders sent to the Southern and Western patrols under the Troop Commander's seal, my lord. Those orders made it possible for the orcs to slip into the western forest. Near Nandoril and Midhion's villages."

Thranduil's attention snapped to his steward before he smoothed out the paper on the table surface and glanced over it again. Near the villages? Engwe said that too, but Thranduil assumed those villages were mentioned only as a reference to describe where the orcs were destroyed. He scanned the report again. Dolgailon did not mention the villages were attacked. They eventually would have been, of course, if Dolgailon had not come upon the orcs first... Orcs Manadhien sent there! To those villages. This was not an attack against his family. She was now attacking his people. The people he had sworn to protect. Suddenly, his breathing came a little harder.

"This makes no sense. What could she hope to gain?" he asked, refusing to believe Manadhien could have grown into such a threat so quickly. "Why would she risk her..." he struggled over a term. Warriors? Too dignified a description for what Manadhien commanded. Allies? Still too gentle. "Why risk losing orcs," he finally said, calling them what they were, "to attack these villages? They are small, have no strategic value in this forest and were difficult to approach. The southern villages are much more vulnerable and are responsible for holding back the Shadow's advance past the mountains."

"But those villages are her allies," Legolas countered. "She has worked long and hard to purchase their loyalty since Uncle Aradunnon's death. She will not sacrifice them."

Thranduil frowned. That was undeniably true. The swords and horses she gave to those villages' guards proved it. "Granted," he said. "But why Nandoril and Midhion's villages? And why now?"

"Because she grows bored with ruling only the southern part of your realm," Engwe began.

Thranduil's fists clenched involuntarily at the provocative way his uncle had phrased that claim. Manadhien might govern that village, with Dolgailon's permission, but she ruled no part of his realm.

"So she is seeking to claim more of it," Engwe continued without acknowledging Thranduil's anger. "She could rule all of it if the king was killed after being drawn into a battle to defend those villages."

"You cannot believe that was her plan!" Thranduil exclaimed before he could check himself. Engwe was not wrong to at least raise that idea, however insane it might be. Anything was possible where Manadhien was involved. Still, he could not believe she was moving against the entire forest.

"You cannot deny if those villages were attacked, you would ride out, my lord," Hallion said. "Isteth's naneth lives in Nandoril's village. Ollwen's sister lives in Midhion's."

"And if you had, the third force of orcs seemed to be a reserve," Enwe said. "It was not in a position to attack any village, but it could have rushed into Nandoril's once you entered it with a weakened force, having already avenged the damage in Midhion's village."

Thranduil ground his teeth together and shook his head. This was mad. "I would have destroyed those orcs, no matter who lived in those villages," he confirmed, his words clipped. "But even if those orcs did lay a trap for me and managed to catch me in it, that would not allow Manadhien to lay claim to this forest. Our people would not turn away from this family to her. I have an heir. This forest would look to him."

Legolas loosed a quiet laugh. "I am not of age, my lord, and I am completely unproven in battle. Manadhien knows she has to act before I am either. She has to make her move while the people in those southern villages do not know me and would not trust me as they do her. If you were killed now, she would urge her allies to argue that she has much more experience in governance and defense than I. At the very least, those southern villages might split with me. And others might be persuaded to follow that lead. Such a division would make this realm very unstable. It would provide an opening for worse schemes and ultimately her domination of the forest." He paused. "And that is all assuming she did not expect you to be without a direct heir by the time she attacked Nandoril and Midhion. If all her recent plans had gone well, I would certainly be dead by now."

Thranduil sat back and stared at Legolas. His reasoning was all too plausible.

"I agree," Hallion said softly. "Dominion of this forest is clearly her goal. Killing the king's family is and always has been nothing more than the means to that goal. We have to remember that her allies are Easterlings and orcs, which means her master is the same as theirs: the power in Dol Guldur. That power, ultimately, wants control of this forest. In exchange for her aid-which is valuable, for now, since very few citizens would expect Sauron's agent to be an elf-he has likely promised her rule over whatever thralls remain once his plans for this forest are achieved. That is what Morgoth promised his captives in exchange for their loyalty."

Thranduil's blood began to pound. He was furious when he thought she wanted to kill his family. The idea that she intended to enslave his people to Sauron was not to be born.

"The Evil One chose a strong ally when he admitted her to his service," Golwon said in the heavy silence. "Manadhien manages the orcs at her disposal much more cleverly than their usual captains. The death of the queen's parents prove that. And, in this instance, it was luck alone that saved those villages. Luck that Dolgailon chose the path he did to travel south."

"Indeed," Hallion nodded. "And she is clever enough to have a new plan in place since her original plan failed. We should be on guard for it."

Thranduil's breath caught in his throat at that suggestion. "That is enough of this," he said, slapping his hand on the table and standing. Everyone else jumped to their feet, but he had already turned towards the door of the Hall. "I will not sit idly while Manadhien threatens my people. It is she that should be on guard. Her end is near at hand. Conuion," he called, pointing to him. "We are leaving. Right now. Gather the guards you want to accompany us and bring my weapons. I will meet you in the stable yard." He turned to Engwe. "If you still wish to accompany me, prepare yourself to leave." Then he faced Hallion. "When we pass to the west of the village, I will send one of the guards to inform Dolgailon to arrest Manadhien and the others we planned to detain, but send a warning with Tulus's return owl that I have decided to move ahead without waiting to identify this last servant." Finally, he laid a hand on Legolas and Berior's shoulders. "Obey Hallion. Help him as you can. And be mindful that a dangerous game is in play," he said to them quietly.

Legolas took a step closer to speak into his father's ear. "Take care that you are not playing into her hands, even without the destruction of two villages to draw you out," he whispered.

"I will be careful," he promised. "Find your naneth and tell her to join me in the stable yard so that I can speak to her before I leave." He did not wait for Legolas's reply. He strode out of the Hall.

* * *

"He claimed he was not spying for Thranduil," Gwathron whispered, his gaze darting around the dark Hall, verifying for the hundredth time that no one else had yet entered it. "He said he was dismissed from the Guard and exiled for hiding the fact that Glilavan was allied with us. That does fit with what Glilavan told us-that his father confessed and betrayed him. Glilavan did not know what his father's punishment was, but his own was exile. It could be true Tulus was exiled as well."

Manadhien loosed a scornful snort. She could barely contain her fury at the news that Tulus had been spying on her. If it were not for him, she would have enough allies left that such a feat would have been impossible. But Tulus, she snarled the name in her mind, betrayed everything to...the mere thought of Thranduil's name made bile rise in her throat.

"If he was exiled, why was he hiding in a tree outside Dolgailon's talan?" she reined herself in enough to ask.

"Oh, he admitted that rather than obeying the king's order to leave the forest, he came here to hunt you down," Mornil replied, affecting boredom by pretending to sort through the petitions stacked at the end of the meeting table. When he dropped the last paper, he looked back at Manadhien. "He swears he is acting alone. Solchion and Baranil searched. They found no one else they could not identify."

"So you believe him?" she asked. If either Gwathron or Mornil was that stupid, she was enraged enough to slake some of her anger on them right now.

"He could not be made to confess anything else," Gwathron replied.

"We questioned him as thoroughly as we dared without doing permanent damage. We thought it best to avoid that, as yet. In case more important questions arise," Mornil added. "He is probably conscious again by now, if you want to speak to him yourself."

Her face contorted in disgust. She did not care to look upon Tulus, much less speak with him. She repeated her original question. "You believe him?"

They both shook their heads. "Between the owl in this village and the hawk in Fuilin's camp and Dolgailon's sudden return and now Tulus's appearance..." Gwathron said, leaving his sentence hanging.

"It is completely unbelievable that the king is not behind Tulus and Dolgailon's presence," Mornil finished. "He has to know we are here. And by now, he must know about the attack Dolgailon ruined and suspect we are behind it. He will be planning a counter-attack."

"Our choices are retreat or strike much more definitively than we originally planned," Gwathron said.

"I am not retreating. Not when I am this close," Manadhien snapped, pounding her fist on the table to punctuate her words. This close to avenging the many evils the House of Oropher had wrought across the ages. This close to using the very people that wronged her to accomplish all her father sought to achieve when he sacrificed her mother on the Grinding Ice to come into this forsaken exile. Rule of this forest would be hers. At any cost.

At any cost! She had already paid all that was most dear to her.

She leveled a cold glare on Gwathron. "We must act, while the information Glilavan gave us is still accurate and, therefore, useful." She swept aside the petitions and sifted through the other papers on the table until she found a map. She pulled it towards her and passed a finger over several villages. "Send the orcs here." She let her finger drop on Maethorness's village on the eastern border. "Send all of them there. Raze that village to the ground and kill every elf in it. None of them are useful to me. Not with the way Maethorness has always treated me. Besides," she added with a shrug, "they deserve it for helping Thranduil hold Fuilin and Mauril when he rescued Legolas." She paused and pointed between Mornil and Gwathron. "You tell Fuilin that I want him to lead that attack personally. No mistakes. Destroy the village and then pull back and wait. Thranduil will not fail to respond. When he does, kill him. Dolgailon will likely also lead some of the southern patrol to go after the orcs. I want him dead as well. You see to that," she nodded to Mornil. "I will use this attack to persuade Selwon, Leithor, Pellion and Nindir to move farther north. They should move when my village does and the horses will make it easier to do so. Bringing those villages further north will expand His territory and my influence into Thranduil's. Legolas is too weak to withstand that. The forest will fall quickly after this attack."

"What about Galithil?" Gwathron asked.

Manadhien's eyes narrowed at the name. The little filth. He played her for a fool. He would pay for that. Dearly and for a long time. "I will manage him," she responded. "By his own admission, he has served the Troop Commander's office for years. Imagine the information he could be persuaded to supply. Once Dolgailon is eliminated, we will take Galithil to Dol Guldur and let people assume he was lost when he followed his brother into battle."

"What about Tulus?" Mornil asked. "What if he is not alone? And how do we make sure Thranduil does not suspect we have him. If he does, he will act faster on whatever plans he has for us and we will lose our advantage."

Manadhien frowned. That could not be allowed. "First of all, find that owl. Find out what message it carries. If it proves Tulus is in communication with the king, forge an 'all is well' message and send it to the stronghold. That should give us the time we need. If the owl's message is not from the king or if it is not for Tulus, we will decide how to best respond once we know what it contains." She paused and smiled. "Turn Tulus over to Luggluk. Take him to Dol Guldur. He was a member of the Guard for years. He might be useful. If not, they will finish him." She waved her hand towards the doors of the Hall, quite pleased with the plans they had made. "Go get rid of him now. Before anyone sees him. And make sure you keep him well concealed in case we are being watched. Bundle him up in a sack and make him look like trade goods."

Gwathron and Mornil stood and bowed. "As you wish, my lady."

She nodded her permission for them to leave before Galithil arrived for morning petitions. It would take effort to restrain herself in his presence and she needed a moment alone in which to master herself.

"What is happening?" Glilavan asked, coming to stand behind Fuilin in their dark camp. All around them, orcs scurried like bugs under a rock suddenly turned up into the sunlight. Fuilin was behaving in much the same manner.

He did not stop stowing items in his pack. Spare shirt, spare leggings, their remaining stale bread and dried meat. Glilavan refused to contemplate its origin. Or to eat it. "We are moving," was Fuilin's only answer.

"I gathered that," Glilavan replied, looking around at the orcs. Their captains, or what passed for them, were driving their underlings into ranks, readying them to march. "Where?"

"To attack Maethorness's village," Fuilin replied. He shouldered his pack and reached for his bow and quiver.

Glilavan's jaw went slack. "You are going with them?" Surely not.

Fuilin glanced up at him. "We are going. We are going to lead the attack to make sure the village is completely destroyed. No survivors."

Glilavan released a sharp breath, as if one of the orcs had driven a sword into his gut. He wished, and not for the first time since Fuilin 'rescued' him, that one would. "You cannot think..." he began, shaking his head and taking a step back. He nearly ran into an orc that was ambling across the camp to join its fellows. He jumped away from it as it growled at him. "That is a village of elves..." he tried again. He could not finish that sentence as visions of the orcs overrunning the village assaulted him. There were far too many orcs here for Maethorness's guards to manage. "I am not..." he could not even breath. He had to fight not to be sick. "You have completely lost your mind if you think I am going to attack a village of elves," he finally managed to say. He was almost satisfied with how level his voice sounded.

"Very well," Fuilin replied, not pausing as he strapped on his sword. "You can stay here. Someone needs to go with Luggluk to take Tulus to Dol Guldur. You can do that. Keep a low profile. They do not know you there. You would not want them to mistake you as another prisoner."

Glilavan felt his whole body go numb. "Who did you say," he breathed.

"Tulus," Fuilin replied, matter-of-factly. "I am very disappointed not to be able to take him myself. I owe him. You do to, since he betrayed you. So you should enjoy seeing him off."

Glilavan swallowed and struggled for breath. He was still furious with his father. He was the reason Glilavan was here, amongst these orcs. He shook his head. But Dol Guldur? No one deserved... He could not allow that.

There was nothing he could do about it. He had nothing to bargain with. Nothing they would value enough to release his father.

He could try to help him escape...

"I would like to see him off to Dol Guldur," Glilavan finally replied, trying to speak stoutly. "Serves him right."

Fuilin studied him narrowly. Then he laughed. "As you wish. Luggluk ought to arrive with Tulus within a day. I will leave Radhak here with you. To keep an eye on you. And to make sure our friends here do not make a meal of you." With that, he marched off, shouting orders. In the orcs' foul language.

Glilavan clenched his jaw and collapsed on a log. It rolled back slightly, from the force of his weight, and he put his hands out behind himself on the ground to steady himself. Just as quickly, he pulled them up and wiped them on his leggings.

As he did, a little gray mouse squeaked in alarm and scurried from behind the log and into the nearby ravine, disappearing.

* * *

Naneth/nana - Mother/mum


	4. To test an elf's character

**Chapter 4: To test an elf's character, give him power**

"Tilion had traversed the skies seven times, I remember, when Arien first rode through the heavens. It was a most marvelous sight," Helindilme said. As she spoke, she ceased, for a moment, plucking winter bloom seeds from the bushes in the public garden-a task she shared with Lindomiel, Arthiel, Maidhien, Nestoreth and Legolas, while also sharing the stories she had promised Legolas. Her hand swept slowly above her head and she followed it with her eyes as if seeing again the first rising of the sun.

Mesmerized by her tale, Legolas plucked leaves from the twigs his mother and Arthiel had trimmed, but his gaze tracked the healer's long, nimble fingers while he imagined what it must have been like to see the skies afire after previously knowing only the silver flickering of the stars.

"With Laurelin's warmth and brilliance," Helindilme continued, "Clouds roiled in the heavens, rains fell and all good creatures stirred while the wicked hid from the burning light. In my mind, as one who loves studying herbs, perhaps the most glorious sight of all was that so many of the plants in Middle Earth, which had been lying under the Sleep of Yavanna, finally sprung forth and blossomed." Her fingers now spread wide, like the petals of a flower. "From tiny mosses to great blooms on trees. Some I recognized as ones we also had in Aman, but so many more were new and wholly unknown. It was utterly fascinating." She paused and fingered the delicate yellow flowers on the bush under her hand. "Like this winter bloom is to me," she added, absently, studying it a moment. Then she shook her head and turned her attention back to her audience. "Witnessing that quickening of the land in Middle Earth was the greatest moment of hope I had ever experienced. Perhaps the greatest I have since experienced. It was also the moment I knew I had made the correct choice to come to across the sea."

"I have always wondered," Lindomiel said softly, "what seeing Anar and Isil was like for one who had seen the full beauty of the Trees. Whether they were a comfort or...not."

Helindime frowned slightly. "Anar and Isil-only one fruit and one flower-were, at once, a bitter and a sweet sight. Most of the elves I knew were relieved that the Valar had preserved at least that remnant of Yavanna's greatest deed and, at the same time, many were...terribly dismayed. They cast such a pale light, comparatively, and they are a constant reminder of the damage Morgoth wrought on the theretofore unspoiled peace and beauty of Aman. One of the reasons I chose not to return with my Atar is that I did not believe, after all the changes in Aman and to myself due to my time in Beleriand, that Aman would feel as much like home as Middle Earth had come to feel. And I was not yet weary of exploring Middle Earth's secrets. I still am not."

Legolas found himself unable to fathom choosing to be separated from his family, especially his mother or father, no matter how he or they or their home changed. He also could not imagine the full light of the Two Trees if Anar seemed pale in Helindilme's eyes.

She smiled at him when she caught him staring as he contemplated her words and he looked away swiftly, embarrassed.

"There is, perhaps, another reason why Middle Earth is easier for me than it was for some of the other Noldor who were so anxious to return to Aman. In Aman, I loved most the softer light, at the Mingling, and I cannot imagine Aman without that light," she said, as if she could see Legolas's thoughts. From the corner of his eye, he saw her frown again. "Do you know what the Mingling was?"

All the Sindar nodded, including Colloth, who was guarding them in the trees of the garden. It amused Legolas somewhat that even his guard was distracted by Helindilme's stories.

"The King has a painting in his private office," Lindomiel said. "It is one he made himself. It depicts the first sight he had of this forest, when he crested the mountains from the west. It was dawn, after a rain, he told me, and the forest was covered in mist and dew. Anar lit the mist and dew to glow golden and sparkle silver. He says he imagines the Mingling was something similar."

"It sounds very much like it," Helindilme replied. "I should greatly like to see that painting, if he would allow it." Her voice sounded a little wistful to Legolas's ears.

"If you are very lucky, you might see the sight itself as you travel back to Imladris," he suggested. "Or even while you are still in the forest. I have seen it with Adar, from the heights of one of our hunting trees, after a rain. We look for it whenever we hunt together and are always delighted to see it."

Lindomiel nodded. "I have also seen it with him. We watch the sunrise every morning and sometimes are so fortunate as to see the light glowing in the forest mists. It appears...almost sacred, like looking at Gil-estel."

"Agreed," Legolas said. "Truly, it is a wondrous sight."

Helindilme said nothing, though she seemed to want to. She studied both Legolas and Lindomiel so intensely that Legolas blushed under her gaze. He was relieved when a figure walking across the Green caught everyone's eye.

"There is the courier," Lindomiel said.

"Which means it is time for me to join Hallion in the Hall," Legolas added. He scooped up the winter bloom twigs he had been stripping and dumped the unfinished ones into Maidhien's lap, earning himself a scowl. Laughing, he winked at her. "I would not want you to miss Galithil too much while he is away, so I feel compelled to behave like him," he whispered into her ear as he stood, brushing little pieces of dried vegetation from his tunic and leggings.

"You could stay with us, Legolas," Lindomiel interrupted him. "Help us finish harvesting the winter bloom and enjoy the last of the beautiful weather before winter sets in."

Legolas glanced sidelong at his mother and tried not to look completely disapproving. The amused smile on her face told him he had failed. "No one is helping Hallion, nana. No one. Golwon is down river, dealing that water rights issue, Dolgailon and Galithil are in their village, Berior is in training, Engwe and the King are otherwise occupied." It was not allowed to speak of the King's travels publicly. "If I do not appear in the Hall, Hallion will not be able to appear at lunch, dinner or possibly even breakfast tomorrow."

Lindomiel laughed.

Legolas knew she would say nothing more. He was right, even if he did not like it any better than she. The fact was, he would have much preferred to remain in Aran's warm glow while hearing Helindilme's stories, but duty called him elsewhere. "I trust you ladies will remain and enjoy yourselves," he said, bowing to his mother and then to Arthiel. That gesture, a courtesy he had always offered his older, female cousin, seemed to make her uncomfortable of late. He had no idea why. He reached to tug on Maidhien's hair ribbon-his customary goodbye to his soon-to-be younger female cousin. That earned him a swat and a dismissive wave good-bye. Finally, he nodded to Nestoreth and Helindilme. "I thoroughly enjoyed hearing your stories, mistress," he said, facing the Noldorin healer. "Thank you so much for sharing them."

"You were a lovely audience," she said.

Legolas smiled and looked into the trees for Colloth. "Are you with me or are you staying in the garden with the Queen?" he asked. His intention was to imply Colloth should stay outside with his mother, since he would be tucked safely away in the Hall and the Guard was stretched so thin that there was no one else to watch over her. Because the King himself had assigned Colloth to guard Legolas, that would be a difficult argument to win, though still one worth trying.

As Colloth hesitated over his response, Nestoreth hastily began fastening the lids onto two of the baskets full of winter bloom leaves and twigs. "If you are both going, would you and Colloth mind taking these into the stronghold on your way to the Hall?" Nestoreth asked. "If you sit them any where in the antechamber, I will store them properly later with the rest of the medicinal supplies."

"Of course," Legolas readily agreed. Then he could argue with Colloth in the privacy of the antechamber. He stepped closer to reach for his basket.

Before he lifted it, Helindilme hopped off the garden wall where she had been sitting and picked it up herself.

Colloth dropped from his tree, picked up the other and started off towards the Gates.

Intending to follow him, Legolas reached for the basket Helindilme picked up for him. Instead of giving it to him, she marched after Colloth herself. Lindomiel laughed quietly in response to that. Completely confused, Legolas suppressed a sigh, bowed once again to his mother and jogged to catch up with Colloth and Helindilme. When he did, he walked along side her and reached again for the basket balanced on her hip. "Please allow me to take that, mistress," he said.

Instead of releasing the basket, she held on to it, turning it slightly away from him. "In Imladris, we do not ask Master Elrond, his sons or daughter to fetch baskets back and forth, my lord Prince," she said. "And besides, if I carry it, I will have the opportunity to speak to you a moment longer."

Caught off-guard by her first claim and the very formal titled she had applied to him, Legolas stared at her without immediately responding.

In front of them, Colloth almost succeeded in suppressing a snort. "Ah, privilege," he said airily, glancing back at Legolas with bright eyes.

Legolas's mouth quirked downward and he gave him a shove.

"And look-abuse of power," Colloth added, now openly laughing and dodging to the side to avoid another shove.

Legolas lunged after him and loosed a dramatically offended puff of air. "I will show you abuse if you continue baiting me," he retorted in a playful voice. Then he turned back to Helindilme and tried to speak seriously. "You do not need an excuse to speak to me if you wish to and I am perfectly happy to be of any service to this realm that I might, including fetching baskets or anything else that ensures we have enough medicines and foods stored for the winter." He reached a third time for the basket and frowned, this time in earnest, when she still did not surrender it. "Please allow me to carry the basket, mistress. Anyone seeing this will think me most unchivalrous."

When she still looked at him doubtfully, Colloth stopped, nearly causing both Legolas and Helindilme to run into him. Once they stumbled to a halt, he pulled the basket from her and thrust it against Legolas's chest. With a satisfied smirk, he turned and continued on towards the bridge.

This time, Legolas did laugh out loud at Helindilme's utterly scandalized expression. "Thank you, Colloth," was all he said before following him.

Helindilme shook her head, but she did smile. And she continued to keep pace with them, rather than returning to the garden. "I am relieved to see you laugh so easily," she said when they were almost to the bridge. "And so whole-heartedly."

Legolas made an effort not to allow his smile to fade. He suddenly found himself wondering precisely what tales this healer, Nestoreth and his mother had been telling amongst themselves. From her scrutiny, he suspected he knew. He said nothing. This was a conversation he avoided with anyone he could. He did not care to have it with this elleth, who he barely knew, no matter how enjoyable he found her company until now.

"I do not need to be told what you have seen," she continued when he remained silent. She prevented his escape over the bridge with a light hand on his arm. "Or possibly even done. I can see the shadow of it in your eyes. Will you tell me which it is-seen or done?"

Legolas could not help it. He frowned. "Done," he confessed without intending to.

Her hand on his arm tightened. "I feared that to be the case. I am not a stranger to that grief."

Legolas's eyes widened.

"I have never taken any life, not even a rabbit's, myself," she hastily clarified. "But I served..."

Legolas tensed as Helindilme hesitated over her choice of words. If she spoke of him and Feanor in the same breath...

"...in an Age when many suffered thusly," she concluded. "Because of that, I am quite knowledgeable of how to heal such griefs, if you would only allow it."

Despite his fervent wish to avoid this conversation, Legolas could not bring himself to be annoyed with her in the face of her genuine desire to help. "I appreciate your concern, mistress," he said gently. "But you need not worry over me. I do grieve what I did. How could I not? But I am surrounded by many people, family and dear friends, who are determined to help me drive away the shadow I face. And I have duties with which to distract myself," he concluded, taking a step away from her and towards the bridge. "Duties that I draw strength from for the good that I can see they do."

"I have heard many rulers make that claim," she replied. "And I see you are no more willing to discuss this with me than you are with Nestoreth, which is not terribly surprising. You know me not at at. But speaking of it with someone, when you are finally comfortable doing so, will help. In the meantime, I will leave you in peace if you will permit me to offer one piece of advice."

He nodded, politely indulgent and little more, but she did not wait for his agreement, so his lack of sincerity hardly mattered.

"Your lady mother is correct to encourage you to spend time amongst the trees. The quiet peace and beauty of nature truly serves to turn the mind from suffering. If gathering medicines or foods is necessary for you to justify in your mind the time you spend in the forest, so be it, but sometimes it is best to do nothing more than listen to the trees sing while gazing at Gil-estel." She stopped and smiled. "That is what I always told the Sindar in Beleriand that so loved the stars and missed Neldoreth and Region and Nivrim. You, I doubt need reminded to listen to the trees, given how they sing for you, but I think I will advise to seek the sun in one of your hunting trees, rather than Gil-estel." Her hand dropped away from its grasp on his arm, whispering down the length of his hair where it fell across his shoulder. "Anar's golden rays seem to suit your family much better, particularly after the tales you and your lady mother told of the mingling of the lights over this forest."

"I will remember that advice, mistress," Legolas replied, feeling oddly breathless as she withdrew her hand. "It is wise, I am sure. Though I confess hearing you speak of the trees as you did surprises me. I did not know the Noldor were particularly sensitive to the song of any forest. Much less would I expect an elleth from Imladris to have any affinity for the Greenwood," he said. His amused smile returned.

Hers did as well. "I have studied herbs for longer than the sun and moon have traversed Arda, both in Middle Earth and in the Valar's own gardens in Aman. All Yavanna's creations speak to me to some degree." With that, she bobbed a polite curtsy. "By your leave," she said, and when Legolas nodded automatically, she turned to rejoin the other ladies and finish harvesting winter bloom seeds, leaves and twigs.

Legolas stepped resolutely onto the bridge, hugging the basket to him. He understood, to some degree, his father's discomfort around the Noldor. That one, at least, certainly made him feel most off-balance.

Colloth stood to one side to allow him to pass. His expression betrayed he was preparing some smart comment. Legolas hurried by, ignoring him and the chortling that followed him.

They crossed the bridge and placed their baskets against a wall in the antechamber. Then Colloth then turned a stern glare on him. "If you leave the Hall before I join you there, you will come find me?" he asked.

"I will," he replied.

The guard nodded to him and went back out through the Gates. That decision was a relief. Legolas would feel much better with Colloth in the garden with his mother. He strode happily into the Hall just as the courier was leaving it. It was Padanil. He had carried messages from the far reaches of the realm for as long as Legolas could remember. He bowed to Legolas as they crossed paths and Legolas smiled at him. Hopefully there would be some news from Dolgailon and Galithil. And Tulus. His next message was due today, but it came by owl. With luck, Hallion already had it.

Legolas hurried down the length of the Hall and joined Hallion at the work table at the foot of the dais. "Fair morning," he said softly, seating himself next to his father's steward.

"My lord," Hallion mumbled without looking up. He was surrounded by stacks of papers: general correspondence, petitions, Golwon's lists of village requests for winter stores, the inventory sheets Berior had finished the night before containing records of supplies, finalized catalogues of the trade goods Lindomiel had received and sent to Dale and Esgaroth, lists of provisions the stronghold needed to lay in to prepare for winter (Legolas was surprised to see those appeared to be in Maidhien's hand) and finally reports and requests from the patrols.

"You should have called for me sooner," Legolas said, shaking his head at the amount of work laid out on the table. "Would you like me to sort through the courier's delivery?"

"We have more than enough work already," Hallion replied, pushing the patrol reports in Legolas's direction. "Summarize these for me, if you please?" he asked, still focused on his own reading-a letter that bore the seal of Dale but Forwed's, not Fengel's, handwriting. Legolas pitied Hallion managing whatever Forwed wanted now!

With no desire to make that situation worse, Legolas silently took the papers Hallion passed him in one hand and pulled a blotter with its accompanying ink and quill closer with the other. Galithil normally summarized patrol reports and Engwe had always managed distribution of supplies to the warriors. With them both absent, Legolas was introduced to these duties only three days before. He turned his full attention to them. The first report was from the Southern Patrol and warned of a large grouping of orcs on the eastern edge of their territory. That news could be worse, Legolas thought as he dipped his pen into the ink. If there had to be large groups of orcs anywhere, the farther they were from Galithil and Thranduil in the west the better.

* * *

Galithil placed the letter he had just finished copying-one to Leithor, the leader of the village just to their east, a request to share the berry harvest-on the stack of completed correspondence and picked up another to copy. Uncle Thranduil was correct. Manadhien was not interested in giving him any real responsibility in the village. He was doing the sort of work he had done for the king when he was a dozen years younger. He did not mind, he told himself. Seeing the issues that arose in the village was enough. He had enough experience from serving the king and troop commander that none of the issues he encountered over the last week in the village seemed difficult to resolve. Besides, he was not really here to learn how to govern villages.

He glanced at Manadhien, sitting to his left at the head of the table.

She had seemed much more quiet the last several days. Much colder. Not that she had been talkative at any point during their stay. And that disappointed him. And challenged him. And it was foolish to challenge him, Legolas always said. Of course Galithil realized it was he Legolas was calling a fool when he said such things. He smiled at the thought of his cousin. Legolas would have a fit if he knew what Galithil planned on asking Manadhien this morning.

"I was wondering, my lady," Galithil said, without looking up from his writing, "if you were born in Middle Earth or if you are one of the Returned Elves."

Manadhien let her quill flutter down, placed her hands flat on the table surface and slowly turned to study Galithil with narrowed eyes.

Her reaction was not completely unexpected. He knew this was a dangerous topic, but he was determined to use every opportunity to get her talking about herself, to learn anything he could about what she was doing and why. As long as he neither did nor said anything to let on what he knew about her, it was not so foolish an idea as Legolas would claim.

When she said nothing, he faced her with a carefully innocent look that only served to make her scowl deeper. "You told me before," he pressed, "when I last visited this village, that you are not Silvan. Or Sindarin. That only leaves Noldorin." He smiled. "You certainly are not Vanyarin, even if any of the Vanyar still resided in Middle Earth. Your hair is most certainly not golden. Quite the opposite. It is the richest black I have ever seen."

Her expression did not change, though it might have grown a bit distant and, in that, Galithil concluded she was searching her memory for the exact details of that conversation. Finally she focused fully on him again. "I said I was not Silvan. I said nothing of not being Sindarin. I only said that I knew Oropher, even if he did not know me, and I did not follow him all the way to this forest. You concluded that I was from Lothlorien, at that point in the conversation."

Galithil shrugged with apparent unconcern and affected confusion. "So you are not Noldorin? I thought it likely that you are, since Aunt Lindomiel said she did not remember you from Lothlorien. Or at least not your name. And since you said you were more interested in gem work. Not many Sindar have any skill in that art. It is something the Noldor loved. At any rate, we never finished that part of the conversation, so I thought maybe Legolas and I had drawn the wrong conclusion about Lothlorien and instead you were one of the Noldor from Ost-in-Edhil." There he stopped, to give her a chance to lie or tell the truth as she would.

She glared at him for a long moment. "Very well," she muttered, "This is near enough concluded that it hardly matters."

Galithil frowned, not understanding that comment until she picked up her quill, wiped its tip on the blotter, and capped her ink bottle. She must have meant her correspondence.

Finally, she faced him fully, folding her arms in front of her. "It is not wise," she said, "to confess to being Noldorin in this realm. Much less when speaking to a member of the House of Oropher."

Galithil's eyebrows rose.

"It is well known that Oropher blamed all the Noldor for the kinslayings and would not suffer their presence."

He had hoped to draw her into a conversation about her past acquaintances, to use them to guess at her potential current allies, since there was still one spy to identify. Kinslaying would certainly be another interesting topic as well-how she justified killing elves. Interesting if he was very careful.

"From what I have heard of daeradar, I can believe that claim," Galithil responded quietly. "But my uncle does not blame all the Noldor. He places blame only on those that earned it." He could not resist that barb.

Her brow furrowed severely. "Those who earned it," she repeated, her words clipped. "All those who earned it? Including the Sindar who killed elves? Himself amongst them?" She shook her head. "I do not believe for a moment he recognizes the evil he did."

Galithil drew a long breath to hide his tension. She blamed the Sindar for defending themselves? Absurd! "The Sindar, including my uncle and daeradar, did kill other elves in Menegroth and Sirion," Galithil replied, keeping his voice very quiet and even. "Uncle Thranduil acknowledges that and still grieves it."

Manadhien's jaw clenched.

"But they killed those elves in self defense," he continued. "The Noldor attacked them in those cities..."

"Because their king refused to return what he had stolen," Manadhien snapped.

"Morgoth stole the Silmaril. Beren and Luthien took it away from him..."

"And they should have returned it to its rightful owner. Neither they nor Thingol nor Dior nor Elwing had any true claim on it," Manadhien interrupted again, her hand in a fist pounding on the table to punctuate her words. "Thingol, Dior and Elwing apparently believed that keeping the Silmaril was worth killing elves. They allowed their people to die so they could keep the jewel they stole."

"Feanor and his sons likewise allowed their people to die. They commanded them to die, so they could possess a jewel." He paused and feigned confusion. "Dolgailon told me that your adar was killed in Sirion."

Her gazed fixed on him and shock flashed in her eyes. Her expression seemed to ask how he dared bring up that topic. She quickly smothered it.

"He said you were deeply offended by kinslaying," Galithil pressed. "So I do not understand how you can be a victim of kinslaying, yet defend the sons of Feanor."

"From my point of view, your warriors were the kinslayers, defending a thief that stole my king's property. If Thingol or Elwing had simply given us the jewel, we would have left in peace without harming a single person. We came to Middle Earth to fight Morgoth, not elves."

Galithil frowned. Some Noldor, her father and brother included, killed not just those that kept the Silmaril, but also innocents. Still, he could not deny that he agreed Thingol and Elwing could have prevented many deaths if they had yielded their pride and that cursed jewel.

Manadhien was scowling at him, awaiting an answer.

"I do agree Thingol should never have kept the Silmaril," he said softly. "And I think we both agree that the loss of all the elves-my kin and yours-that died for it was a terrible tragedy that caused great suffering on all sides. I truly sympathize with you. I see the loss of your adar is still very painful for you, even now. I have some understanding of the pain of losing a parent. Have you ever thought of sailing? To address your grief by reuniting with your adar? And your naneth? Did she stay in Aman?"

Manadhien laughed bitterly. "I would not dream of returning to my adar's presence without first achieving what he hoped for us to achieve in Middle Earth. I would not disappoint his expectations." She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Would you sail now? Would you care to face your adar again having done less than everything he expected you to do for this realm?"

"I would not," he conceded, remembering how his father's death had left him determined to be the elf his father would have wanted him to be. How could he and Manadhien have so much and so little in common? What, precisely, did she think to achieve in her father's name through her current actions. He dared not ask. It might be anything, given both her father's past and her own.

"And no, Emme did not remain in Aman. She came with us. Across the Ice..."

"You crossed the Helcaraxe?" Galithil could not stop himself from exclaiming. He assumed she came with Feanor, since her father served his House. "That was an impressive feat," he said. Despite the evils that surrounded those times, impressive was how he had been taught to view the Crossing of the Helcaraxe. Impressive, not heroic.

"It was nightmarish," she said.

"How long did it take you? What could you have possibly found to eat, or even drink, on such a journey? It is not safe to eat snow in such cold, unless you can melt it and you could not have possibly done that. Where would you get wood to make a fire?" The questions rushed from him. He could not help it. In the back of his mind, he wished Legolas were here. His cousin loved stories. To speak to someone that had seen the Crossing of the Ice! Even if that person was Manadhien! It was amazing.

"I do not know how long it took. There was no sun. The moon had only just risen when we began the crossing and it did not yet run in the same course we know today." She looked at him and her expression was as cold as the Helcaraxe. "There was no food, save that which we carried and it did not last. There was no water, save ice. And there was no fire. Cold and hunger is why so many died. That and the shifting of the ice, which swallowed all but the most observant and agile. My mother died that way. Crushed by the ice. She slipped into a crevasse. When she fell, I reached for her and caught only the neckline of her dress. It tore..." she drifted to silence.

Galithil gasped involuntarily and a pitying expression claimed his face. He fought to suppress it, knowing she would scorn his pity. "I cannot imagine. I am sorry," he stammered. "And sorry to have turned your thoughts to such terrible memories."

"Memories of my mother are not terrible," Manadhien replied, her voice softer than Galithil had ever heard it. She reached into her pocket and withdrew something from it. Something small. Her hand hid it until she chose to show it to him. She did so with obvious reluctance, clearly already regretting her actions, but unwilling to turn from them just the same. "Atar gave me this, when we left Aman," she said, turning a blue gem so that it caught the light. It was marred. Cracked. It did not sparkle as it should. "It was once set in a necklace that my mother made at Atar's request. She cut the gem too, but it has since been damaged and the necklace lost. She chose blue to represent the sea Atar was so determined to cross. Atar gave one to my brother and sister too, but theirs were lost with them. This jewel is the only thing I have left of my parents." She carefully tucked the stone back into her pocket. "Emme never wanted to leave Valinor. She was happy there, making jewelry for the lords and their ladies in the court. She only came for Atar's sake. Because he wanted a greater life." She stopped herself and frowned at Galithil, as if only just remembering he was there. "I beg your pardon, my lord," she said, her voice tinged with mockery. "Of course, you do not care to hear that language. Nana and Adar, I should have said."

Galithil shook his head. "Of course you called them Atar and...what was the word? I do not know Quenya. Emme? You should refer to her as you remember her. I am certain it is very difficult to be separated from her. I sincerely hope that one day you will feel you have fulfilled your adar's expectations, whatever they may be, so you can be reunited with your family."

Manadhien leveled a cold, almost openly threatening glare on him. "Like many of the Noldor, my Atar came to Middle Earth seeking a realm to rule," she declared.

The breath caught in Galithil's throat. "And you are governing the largest village in the southern forest," he whispered. "The second largest village in the forest, after the capital. You are doing precisely what your adar hoped to do."

"Not precisely," she replied.

Galithil stared at her. That was a threat and there was no mistaking it. She intended it as one. But why would she? She could not think he would understand it.

Before he could reply, the doors of the Hall swung open and Gwathron and Mornil swept through them.

"Leave," Mornil barked, speaking to Galithil. He emphasized that command with a wave of his hand that left his fingers pointing in the general direction of the doors.

Accustomed to such commands from the king's court-though not ones delivered as if they had been spoken to an ill-trained dog or horse-Galithil gathered himself to stand. Even as he was doing so, his back went rigid. The king could certainly order him thusly. So might Dolgailon, as an officer and leader of this village. Mornil, on the other hand, had absolutely no right to speak to him in such a manner. Galithil barely stopped himself from glaring at Mornil. It might be better to simply leave. To not be any more provocative than he had already been.

Mornil was already drawing a breath to repeat his order.

No, Galithil thought. I am not having it. He remained seated, turned towards Mornil and Gwathron as they dropped into the chairs across from him at the table and drew himself up in his best impression of Uncle Thranduil. "I am Oropher's grandson and the king's nephew. I am a prince of this realm," he said in a perfectly even voice. "If you expect me to respond, I suggest you address me appropriately."

Galithil watched Mornil's face contort in anger. An anger that froze in place and then instantly disappeared when he glanced at Manadhien. Manadhien was looking at Mornil completely expressionlessly. Mornil turned his gaze to has lap, took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. Then he sat still for a long moment. Finally he looked back at Galithil.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," he said softly. "You are correct, of course. May I ask to speak to Lady Moralfien in private for a moment?"

"Certainly," Galithil said, now standing. He spent a moment straightening the papers he had been working on and then he nodded to Manadhien. "I will see you this afternoon, my lady, with the reports from the village guards and patrols."

Manadhien nodded back to him. "I look forward to that."

Galithil left the Hall at a dignified pace. He could almost physically feel Mornil's rage, but neither he nor Gwathron said a word until Galithil's hand reached for the door handle. Even then, he only heard them shifting in their chairs.

Galithil opened the doors, stepped through them and then considered pressing his ear against the crack between them to listen to whatever it was Mornil was so anxious to tell Manadhien in private. He immediately thought better of that. Not only would every elf in the village see him eavesdropping, Mornil might. So instead, he jumped down the steps by twos and dodged around to the side of the Hall, going to stand at its back corner. The windows were open. He should be able to hear whatever they said through them.

The first voice he heard was Gwathron's: "Thranduil obviously knows that we have discovered their plans. Dolgailon likely does too," he said, his voice shaking slightly, possibly with rage or fear. "Do you think they know our plans to..."

Manadhien cut him off with a hiss.

"There is no one here!" Gwathron exclaimed. "Mornil checked the door."

The only response to that was a whisper Galithil could not make out. For safety sake, he ducked further around the back side of the Hall and pressed himself against the wall. As he moved, he covered his mouth with his hand in an effort to stifle the gasp that arose in his throat. Manadhien knew! At least she knew something, if she was speculating about what the King knew about her. 'We have discovered their plans.' Could that mean they knew the true reason he and Dolgailon were in the village? That would explain why she had been so stiff with him the last few days. And why she openly threatened him moments ago. How could she have figured it out? He wracked his memory, trying to think of anyway he might have slipped.

"I will not retreat!" were the next words Galithil could hear. Angry, determined, loud words from Manadhien. "We will attack him here, in this village," she continued, in a much quieter voice. "It is not too late to divert some of them here. Do it. Quickly. We outnumber them. Two fronts will be easier for us to manage than for them and it doubles our chances of ensnaring them all. It ensures we will catch Dolgailon and Galithil, at least. Go."

Without another word, chairs scraped against the wooden floor in the Hall.

Before he could stop himself, Galithil skittered into the forest like a frightened squirrel. He was not a dozen feet past the tree line when a hand fell onto his shoulder. He spun around, drawing his knife as he did. The hand jerked off his shoulder as the person beside him jumped back.

"Did you hear anything interesting?" Galuauth asked. Both his hands, palms forward, were outstretched in front of him. Despite being threatened with a knife, he appeared amused.

Galithil loosed a breath and sank almost to the ground, stopping his descent only by bracing his hands against his knees. He loosed a curse that made the guard's eyebrows shoot up.

"Not terribly prince-like, my lord," he said, still smiling and apparently quite satisfied with himself.

Galithil shook his head. He was so preoccupied with his conversation with Manadhien and then spying on her, he forgot about Galuauth, sitting by the doors of the Hall as Galithil copied. He must have proceeded him out of the Hall after Mornil's terse order to leave and then watched him spy. Galithil sucked down a couple of breaths to steady himself. "I heard Manadhien saying that we have discovered some plan of theirs, though what, I do not know," he answered. "Perhaps something Dolgailon discovered but did not tell me." Then he paused, straightened and looked at Galuauth squarely. The guard was no longer smiling. "She implied they knew our plans. I heard her saying she would attack two fronts-one of them this village-and thereby double her chances of 'ensnaring' us all, especially Dolgailon. And me."

Galuauth's eyes widened.

Without waiting for a response, Galithil strode off to the opposite side of the courtyard. "Time to speak to Dolgailon," he said.

"No doubt," Galuauth agreed.

Galithil did not fail to notice that the guard practically walked on his heels the entire trip across the courtyard.

* * *

When Galithil entered his family's talan, Dolgailon was in the public sitting room. Two warriors were with him. Dolgailon nodded in acknowledgment of his entrance, but did not stop issuing orders to the warriors. Rather than going to his own room, as Dolgailon clearly expected him to do, Galithil walked straight to them, making a point of stepping around past the warriors to see who they were. A lieutenant of the southern patrol and one from the eastern patrol. Ones entrusted with carrying orders, so ones Dolgailon judged to be wholly loyal to the King.

"Good," Galithil mumbled. Then he turned to Dolgailon.

His brother was frowning at him. "I am busy at the moment, Galithil," he began.

Galithil nodded. "I apologize for the interruption, my lord, but this will not wait," he said. "In fact, it might affect the patrols, so it is good their couriers are here. May I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Dolgailon's frown deepened, but he stood, gestured for the warriors to wait and made to lead Galithil and Galuauth nearer the balcony.

Galithil caught his sleeve and led him instead towards the door that led further into the center of the talan, towards the sleeping chambers. "Gwathron and Mornil just brought Manadhien news," Galithil whispered before Dolgailon could upbraid him for his behavior. "They asked me to leave so they could give it to her. Listening at the window, I overheard her say in response to whatever they said that she would not retreat. She ordered Mornil and Gwathron to divert some of them-she did not specify who 'they' were, but I assume orcs-to attack on two fronts. She specified one front was this village, but she did not name the other."

Dolgailon's eyes widened and he leaned closer to Galithil. Galithil clearly had the Troop Commander's full attention now.

"She said she outnumbered us, but did not mention her numbers, and that an attack on two fronts would be more difficult for us to manage then for her. She said it would be more likely to catch us all and would certainly catch you and me. And she seemed to know that we know who she is."

Dolgailon whistled softly and glanced at the two warriors. "Come sit down, Galithil," he said. Then he walked back to the sitting area to rejoin the warriors.

They regarded both Dolgailon and especially Galithil with curiosity.

"Tell Maethroness to ready her guards," he said with no preamble. "I now have clear evidence the orcs you have been watching are staging an attack, not simply some sort of movement within their territory. It sounds likely that the entire contingent will join the battle."

That caused the warriors to stiffen.

"Warn her and your captains," Dolgailon continued, "that these orcs may well employ better strategies than normal. Elves may lead them."

The warriors mouths fell open at that. Even Galithil was startled by that assertion.

Dolgailon ignored their reactions and quickly explained who Fuilin and Glilavan were and how Manadhien had led orcs herself before, so it was little stretch that she would command her servants to do likewise now. Finally, he explained the king had spies watching Fuilin and Glilavan, with orders not to allow them to escape. "If you see elves amongst the orcs, if they appear to be fighting allied with the orcs, trust what you see and treat them accordingly. Offer them no quarter, for they are no more likely to offer you quarter than orcs are."

"Are you ordering us to kill those elves?" the lieutenant of the Southern Patrol asked, shaking his head with wide eyes. "Glilavan is Tulus's son. He and I shared a tutor as children. And Fuilin..."

"Fuilin and Glilavan sold the King's son to Easterlings not one moon ago," Dolgailon cut him off. "And when Lord Legolas escaped, Fuilin led elves to try again to kill him. Glilavan tried to kill him in the Great Hall in front of the King. I am not ordering you to kill them. I am ordering you to ensure they do not escape. That is the King's command."

The lieutenants both bowed, eyes still wide. "Yes, my lord," they said.

"Also, you may soon see signs that the orcs will turn west," Dolgailon continued. "Or at least some of them might. I want you to be on guard for that," he said, pointing at the Southern Patrol's lieutenant. "If they do, your patrol will follow the ones going west. They will be aiming to attack this village. Galithil and I are their targets, but I do not doubt they will destroy the village to get to us if need be. If they come here, I want Ostarndor to confer with me how best to manage them. I will be defending this village personally." Dolgailon turned to the other warrior. "The eastern patrol will stay with Maethorness's village. Tell Delethil to bring more warriors further south to protect her and he may command that battle as he judges is best. I will send orders to Dollion and Esgalason to redistribute their patrols to compensate along the eastern border. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the warriors repeated.

Dolgailon nodded to them. They bowed and hurried from the talan. Through the balcony window, Galithil watched them running towards paths that led out of the village. Dolgailon, meanwhile, faced Galuauth. "Can you find a way to speak to Tulus, Tureden or one of the other spies?"

"I spoke to Tureden last night," Galuauth replied. "He said he has not seen Tulus for several days, but he thinks he went south. That is what one of the other spies said. Apparently, one of the elves watching Glilavan delivered some news that Tulus needed to attend to personally. The point is, yes, I think I can speak to Tureden again."

"Warn him we have been discovered, but we do not know how she discovered us or if Manadhien is aware of them yet." Dolgailon paused and looked to Galithil to confirm that. Galithil nodded. "I think we had better assume that she does know about the spies watching her, but tell Tureden they should not alter their normal routines. Let her think we do not know that she has discovered our plans. It might give us an advantage."

"Agreed, my lord," Galuauth said.

"Tell Tureden I want to speak to him, since Tulus is not here. I need to discuss with him how to manage these arrests. Since we have been discovered, we will need to act much more quickly than we had planned. We cannot wait for the King to travel here. I think I will recommend to Tureden that I should go now to find Fuilin and Glilavan while he and the other spies arrest Manadhien, before this village is attacked and all of them disperse."

Galithil sat bolt upright at that. "You are going to go south to look for Fuilin and Glilavan? But you just said they would be with the orcs. And if this village is going to be attacked, you need to be in it. You told the courier you would defend it."

Dolgailon laid a hand on Galithil's shoulder. "This is happening too fast, Galithil, and we must remain in control of it. According to the scouts, those orcs will be in place to attack Maethorness's village very soon. I need to know if Fuilin or Glilavan is commanding that attack-I need to be certain they are still contained and I need to know how to command my warriors if they are not. If Fuilin or Glilavan is with the orcs attacking Maethorness, I am going to have to trust the spies or warriors to capture them. I cannot make it to the eastern border myself that quickly. And if they are still in the south, where the spies have been watching them all along, they must be arrested before the attack on this village because we have to arrest Manadhien before that attack, lest she use it as a diversion to escape herself. Both arrests have to be carefully timed so that no one is alerted and has opportunity to escape."

"I fear, if Fuilin or Glilavan traveled with the orcs, the spies watching them, possibly even including Tulus, since he apparently went south, must be dead, else we would have a report of their movements, my lord," Galuauth said softly.

Dolgailon nodded. "Agreed. I imagine Tulus left when he heard either Fuilin or Glilavan or both were on the move, looking for more information before determining how to manage that. My hope is that he is tracking them and will find a way to communicate with us soon. But I cannot count on that or wait for it."

"How can I help?" Galithil asked, trying to appear confident that Dolgailon intended to let him help.

The hand on Galithil's shoulder tightened. "As much as I hate this, you have to continue on as if nothing has happened. Give Manadhien no reason to think any of our plans have changed. No need to push her along faster by making her think the trap is tightening around her." He looked at Galuauth. "From now on, both you and Lanthir will be with him at all times if he is not in this talan. One of you openly and one hidden."

"Yes, my lord," Galuauth replied. He did not seem to need that order, nor, strictly speaking, did Dolgailon have the authority to issue it. The King's Guard did not fall under his command. But Galuauth would not question Dolgailon's right to act as Galithil's guardian in the King's absence.

Dolgailon turned back to Galithil. "When you report to her about the patrols tonight, tell her..." He drifted to a stop, shaking his head. "What can we tell her?" he asked. "If we tell her the patrols are following their normal routes, she will learn from the village guards loyal to her that is not true. If we tell her I have sent warriors to intercept a possible orc attack, she might have reserves to make her attack worse, but I do not have more warriors to send south unless I pull them from the north. I fear to leave the stronghold less protected since I see no logical reason for this attack on Maethorness."

"I recommend telling her everything remains normal," Galithil said. "It will take time for her to find out differently, and that serves us. Plus, she already knows we are lying to her. What is one more lie?"

Dolgailon nodded. "True enough. Tell her that. I will tell Seregon to prepare the loyal guards for an attack and, if the attack occurs in my absence, Seregon and the officers of the Southern Patrol will defend this village. You have been performing the inspections of the talan the villagers shelter in yourself? Everything is as I showed you it should be?"

"Of course," Galithil responded.

"I want you to inspect it twice a day until the battle begins," Dolgailon ordered. "Wear that mail uncle Thranduil told you to bring, keep your weapons close and avoid Manadhien and those loyal to her as much as possible. When the battle starts, you go straight to the talan. You may fight, but from there only."

"Understood," Galithil said quietly. "Those officers," he gestured with his chin towards the window, "already scouted the orcs? Did they say how many they saw?" He managed to ask that question perfectly steadily. Despite that, Dolgailon gave his shoulder another squeeze.

"A large number," he admitted. "We will be facing around a hundred orcs if she sends here half the numbers massing near Maethorness's village. As you heard, I ordered the majority of the Southern Patrol to defend us."

"A little more than three dozen warriors," Galithil said.

Dolgailon nodded. "And ten or so village guards and the villagers themselves. They always make a fierce defense as archers from the talan. You have seen that before."

It was true. Galithil saw such a battle. Their father died in it.

"This is a battle we will win," Dolgailon said, his tone reassuring. "It will be a large one. And likely a costly one. But we will win it."

"But you have to make sure Manadhien does not escape during it," Galithil said. "While also making sure Fuilin and Glilavan are arrested, without even really knowing where they are."

"Yes, I do." Dolgailon agreed.

Galithil could not imagine how his brother intended to do that. This situation had deteriorated very quickly. Galithil found himself praying it would not get worse.

* * *

The candles in the Hall had burned down considerably and Legolas was mapping the information in the final patrol report when Hallion made a confused noise. Legolas looked up at him. He was turning one of the courier's letters over in his hands. Legolas squinted at it and was surprised to recognize the handwriting. "Is that from Tulus?" he asked, leaning closer.

"It seems so," Hallion responded. He sounded skeptical and was studying the seal-nothing more than wax smudged into place over the fold of the letter. No markings.

"What does it say?" Legolas asked, holding out a hand for it.

Hallion gave him the letter, watching while he read it. It contained three lines: The owl has not returned. Otherwise, all is well. Nothing to report. Legolas scowled at it. That seemed very...odd. Tulus was not known for being succinct. Even notes he wrote for the owl to carry had been longer, and they had to be crammed onto squares of parchment small enough to fit in Legolas's palm.

"Is that definitely Tulus's hand?" Hallion asked. Legolas would know it better than Hallion, having seen and copied reports from the Guard for over a dozen years.

"It looks like it," Legolas answered. He had not taken his eyes off the letter, such as it was. "It does not contain the symbol it should," he observed and his scowl deepened.

"I suppose it is possible that Tulus still has not had a chance to speak to Dolgailon since he and Galithil arrived in the village. If that is the case and Tulus did not receive our last message before sending this one, he might not yet know he should include that symbol," Hallion said, reaching for the message and running his own finger lightly over the writing while studying it closely.

"Maybe," Legolas conceded, making sure his tone made it perfectly clear he did not believe that at all. "And it might be logical for Tulus to send an update by courier if the owl has not returned, rather than failing to send one at all, especially since by now the King should have alerted them to his presence in the south. But how did Tulus get this message to a courier without revealing himself? If he has not spoken to Dolgailon, then Dolgailon could not have passed it for him."

Hallion frowned. "Perhaps one of the other spies with him gave it to Padanil? One that would not be recognized so easily by Manadhien or the couriers?"

"I suppose that is possible," Legolas replied. But we should confirm that rather than assuming it, he thought. He did not say it out loud because he was certain Hallion would draw the same conclusion. Much to Legolas's great concern, he did not appear to.

Still frowning, Hallion put the message in a stack of papers to be stored in the King's office and reached for the next item the courier delivered.

Legolas leaned forward and covered those papers with his hand. "At a time when the Troop Commander and King are both in the south," he said, "just after we learned Manadhien is sending forged orders to the patrols, we have a message that essentially says nothing, delivered in a wholly unexpected and unexplainable manner, that does not contain the necessary code. How does that make you feel? Do you honestly think we need make no response to this at all?"

"It concerns me," Hallion admitted, sitting back in his chair. "But not terribly so. Tulus is not alone in that village, after all. There are six other spies with him. Even Tureden is there now. If something has happened to Tulus, all his fellows must have suffered the same fate, else they would have reported his loss by now. I cannot believe eight elves could be apprehended so quietly that neither Dolgailon nor any of his guards noticed it." He gestured at the letter with a jerk of his chin, glaring at it. "I think Tulus would have been wiser to communicate with Dolgailon and have Dolgailon send us a message, rather than trying to send one by courier himself. But for all we know, that is exactly what happened..."

"But the symbol would be in the message then," Legolas interjected.

"That symbol was designed by Dolgailon for the patrols. Maybe he and the King did not intend for Tulus to use it. I cannot honestly say I remember the King saying he expected that. Especially since Tulus is communicating by owl..."

"But the owl did not deliver this message..."

"Because it has not returned yet. Tulus made that clear. Birds are not completely predictable. And this is a wild owl, not a trained hawk," Hallion countered, speaking firmly and now turning his glare from the letter to Legolas.

Legolas glared back at him unflinchingly. He would not back down on this. Too much was at stake. Too many lives.

Hallion sighed. "What would you have me do? We cannot march into that village and inquire after Tulus's health."

"Ask Padanil who gave him this," Legolas suggested, picking up the letter. "If it was Tulus, or if Padanil can confirm it was some other trustworthy source, we have nothing to worry about. If not...truthfully, that does not bare thinking about. If Manadhien forged a letter from Tulus, that implies she knows everything. Dolgailon, Galithil and the King are all in grave danger, if they are still alive."

"Padanil would be a quarter of the way through the Guard's patrol area by now, at least," Hallion replied. "And it will be four days before he returns again. By then, this whole business should be finished."

"I think we should send someone after him," Legolas insisted.

Hallion loosed a humorless laugh. "Who?" he asked, spreading both arms wide to encompass the unoccupied table.

Hallion had him there. The entire council and nearly all the Guard, save Colloth, were already abroad. And not just any warrior could be entrusted with this duty. The only warriors still in the vicinity of the stronghold that the King had informed of his plans to capture Manadhien were Dollion and a select few of his lieutenants.

"By the time I could have someone deliver an order to Dollion to find Padanil, I could travel to Dolgailon's village and investigate this myself," Hallion said, echoing Legolas's thoughts. He immediately held up a single, forbidding finger when Legolas drew a breath to speak. "I cannot leave the stronghold when the King is abroad, so do not even suggest it," he added.

"Then I will go," Legolas replied. And he had no doubt how his uncle would react to that idea.

Hallion did not disappoint.

He turned in his chair, eyes widening in shock and just as quickly narrowing into a glare to add emphasis to the firm shake of his head. "No," he said flatly. Then he leaned over, one hand on the table to support himself, and seized Legolas's arm in a fairly bruising grasp. "To Dolgailon's village?" he asked. "With Manadhien in it? I will lock you in a cell if you so much as think it again. The very worst possible outcome of our present situation is that Manadhien might manage to capture or kill both the king and his heir. If you believe I will allow that to happen, you have completely taken leave of your senses."

Legolas surprised himself with his own response to Hallion's words and actions. He felt a surge of outrage at such threats and treatment. He only suppressed the urge to physically throw off the hand on his arm by reminding himself that this was his uncle, who had helped raise him and was responsible for his safety in his father's absence. He forced himself to relax and simply glanced at his arm before meeting Hallion's gaze with a raised eyebrow.

Hallion was already cringing at his own words. "I beg your pardon, my lord," he said quickly, releasing Legolas's arm. But his expression did not soften in the slightest. Indeed, he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I am not suggesting I go to Dolgailon's village," Legolas explained. "Only that I could go after Padanil to ask about Tulus's message. He has been a courier for a very long time. Tulus knows him well. Perhaps he decided to take him into his confidence when the owl did not return. But we should confirm that, because the alternative is that Manadhien forged this message and therefore knows all." Legolas braced himself for his next words, not certain how he would enforce them, if it came to that, but he intended to. "Indeed, given that the King's life may be at stake, I insist that we confirm Tulus sent this message. The choice how we do so is yours, but I am not sure who we can send in a timely fashion other than me or yourself."

Legolas watched as Hallion's brows puckered severely and he drew himself up to his full height. Then he seemed to check himself and regard Legolas for a long moment without a word.

"It is only a matter of traveling a few hours south of the stronghold," Legolas said very softly into the silence. "I regularly hunt that far south. And Colloth will be with me."

Hallion still stared at Legolas. "Go," he finally said. "Fully armed, wearing mail and with Colloth. Find Padanil and come directly back here with what ever information you learn from him. Do not even dream of going any further south than your adar allows you to go to hunt, even if you cannot catch Padanil. If he has already gone too far south, you send one of the patrols to fetch him back. Understood?"

Legolas stood, bringing Hallion to his feet as well. "Yes, my lord steward," he said with a half bow and a smile.

Hallion caught him by the arm again as he straightened. "I am serious, Legolas. I fear facing your naneth at the lunch table with the news that I allowed you to go after Padanil. I definitely do not want to face your adar and explain to him how I sent you into Manadhien's hands. And I am not certain either of them will accept as an excuse that I was obeying the command of the Prince of this realm, though that is precisely what I am doing."

Legolas bit his lip. He had put Hallion in a difficult position and he had done so intentionally. He hoped he would not regret that decision, but he had a very uneasy feeling about Tulus's message. One he could not ignore. "I will be careful. I promise," he responded.

Hallion only nodded. "Return before nightfall."

"I will," Legolas responded.

Hallion released his arm.

* * *

In the end, much to Legolas's dismay and Colloth's disgust, they did not go after the courier alone. Berior and Anastor went with them. They crossed paths when Legolas was leaving and Berior, Anastor and Noruil were returning to the stronghold for lunch. Berior would not accept Legolas's refusal to discuss his mission-one that required him to be fully armed simply inspired too much curiosity. He followed, pestering him, until Legolas confessed, not wanting to waste time in his pursuit while arguing. Berior immediately understood Legolas's fears regarding what might happen if the message was forged. And his response was: 'They are guilty of my adar's murder. I will go to Mordor itself before I will allow them to escape, or worse still, be responsible for the King's death.' No argument could convince him to stay in the stronghold.

Though Legolas did not speak to Berior in Anastor's presence, it was obvious Anastor at least guessed Manadhien was somehow behind their heated words. He stuck to them like a wolf on its prey and laughed outright at both Legolas and Colloth when they tried to order him back, declaring he bought his right to accompany them with his own blood.

Legolas could not deny that.

At least Noruil remained behind.

Legolas concentrated on moving swiftly through the trees and forced himself not to think about what his uncle Hallion-or naneth-would do when they got the report from the training masters that Berior never returned to training.

"We are approaching the border of the Guard's patrol area," Colloth called, his voice right at Legolas's ear. The further south they travelled, the closer Colloth had followed him, until now, he was practically on top of him.

Legolas assumed they had gone nearly that far. He did not know this part of the forest well. They were past the territory where he was allowed to hunt. He had only travelled this far south twice and neither time had anyone taken the trouble to show him how to identify the borders of the patrols.

"It will be dusk soon," Colloth said after a few moments, trying again to bring Legolas to a stop.

"I know," Legolas replied. And he also knew he should obey his guard and cease his pursuit of the courier. "Just a little farther, Colloth. We must be close to catching him."

"If we do not find him soon, we will find a warrior to go after him," Colloth replied. "The eastern camp of the Western Patrol is within a league of here."

Legolas stifled a sigh. Colloth was right. They could not safely go further. Especially with Anastor. He carried a sword from the training fields. Legolas could not even be certain it was sharpened. He was certain Anastor had little idea how to use it. He could not lead his friend into territory that orcs regularly roamed.

"There!" Berior called, pointing ahead of them. "Is that Padanil or a warrior or...?"

Legolas peered through the red and yellow fall leaves in the direction Berior pointed. His cousin was always the best scout amongst them when they hunted. He had no doubt Berior spotted something, even if Legolas did not yet see it.

Just as Legolas registered movement in the branches, Colloth loosed a call and the movement stopped.

It was the courier then. Or a patrol. Either was better than the alternative Berior had not dared voice-spiders. Legolas doubled his pace towards the tree where he last saw rustling branches, hoping it was Padanil. Quickly, the courier came into view, turned towards his pursuers, waiting crouched on a branch in a stout oak. His eyes widened when he recognized Legolas.

"My lords," he greeted them, his tone questioning as he glanced between Legolas and Berior.

Legolas, with Colloth on his heels, leapt easily onto a branch nearby Padanil. Berior had the good sense to remain in the background and keep Anastor there along with him.

"I cannot imagine what message I might have left behind that was so important the king's son would be sent to deliver it," Padanil said, trying to smile as he looked Legolas up and down. His brows shot up when Legolas did, in fact, withdraw a message from his tunic pocket and hand it over to him. He looked from it to Legolas.

"Do you remember who gave you this message?" Legolas asked with no further explanation, fearing hidden ears might be nearby.

Padanil glanced at it again, turning it over in his hands. "I believe this one came from Lord Dolgailon's village," he replied uncertainly. "I though the unmarked seal was unusual, so I remember it."

"Lord Dolgailon gave it to you himself?" Legolas asked, feeling a surge of relief. He had been overly concerned, but he was perfectly happy to learn that.

"No," the courier said, shaking his head. "Lord Dolgailon gave me orders for the Western Patrol, since I pass their base camp on the way to the stronghold. Those he gave me himself. This," he studied the message again, "was in the pile of correspondence I picked up from his desk."

"In his private office?" Legolas asked, tension claiming him once again.

Again Padanil shook his head. "His office in the meeting hall."

"Was it locked?" Legolas asked, with no real hope the answer would be affirmative.

"The meeting hall?" Padanil asked. "The office door," he quickly guessed again in response to Legolas's frown. "No, it was not locked. Should it have been?"

"No, I suppose not. Thank you, Padanil," Legolas replied, his mind already analyzing what the courier's answers might mean.

"By your leave, my lord?" Padanil said, frowning.

That drew Legolas's attention back to the courier. "Of course. I apologize for delaying you."

Padanil offered him a brief bow. "I am bound for the Western Patrol's camp and have a way yet to travel, so...farewell." He bowed again, nodded to Colloth and then in Berior's general direction. Then he disappeared into the trees.

"Not good news, that," Colloth commented, taking a step towards the north.

"No," Legolas agreed. It was, in truth, worse than bad news. They had learned almost nothing. The message still might have come from Tulus or it might not have. Dolgailon might have put it amongst the correspondence for the stronghold or, given the public nature of that office, Manadhien or one of her servants might have. Rather than following Colloth north, he turned his face south. Manadhien might not be terribly suspicious if he appeared in the village to visit his cousins.

Colloth's hand fell on his shoulder. "No, my lord," he said. "Lord Hallion asked you to return to the stronghold before nightfall. Bad enough that we will not do that." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Please do not force me to contradict you-publicly, since Anastor is here-by trying to pursue this matter to the village itself."

But they had to know if Manadhien had learned Dolgailon's true reason for being in the village. They had to warn Dolgailon and Galithil if she had. And the King. And if she knew...if she was forging Tulus's messages, Legolas's gut twisted in fear of what might have befallen Tulus. He looked more determinedly over his shoulder to the south.

A startled gasp to Legolas's left, from the west, caused both Legolas and Colloth to draw and nock an arrow.

"Oh no," Berior whispered. He was standing with his nose almost flush against the trunk of his tree. Anastor tip-toed next to him, also peering at the tree trunk.

The tree was far enough away that Legolas could barely make them out. The light had failed entirely, he was surprised to realize. He loosed a long breath and lowered his bow. He could see them well enough to know they were in no immediate danger.

With a growl, Colloth lowered his bow. "Get back over here," he hissed.

Both Berior and, less surprisingly, Anastor ignored him. After a moment's hesitation, Berior reached towards the tree. Then, into it. They must be looking into a large knot in the tree, Legolas thought. Berior pulled free a greyish-brown mass. It flopped limply in his hands as he inspected it.

"I said, get back over here," Colloth repeated his order much more fiercely.

"Legolas, I think you had better look at this," Berior said, still disregarding Colloth.

With a glance at his guard, Legolas began climbing through the branches to join his cousin. That elicited another growl.

"It is just an old, dead owl," Anastor said. "It could not be the first one you have ever seen." Then he laughed. "I know it is not because we scared you out of a tree with one when we were little. Or was that a dead fish hawk?"

Berior ignored him.

Legolas, on the other hand, and Colloth too, responded to his comment by doubling their pace. Before he even reached Berior's tree, Legolas could see that owl was the one Tulus had been using. Its pouch was missing, but the leg it should have been attached to bore tell-tale rub marks. More than that, even fading in death, Legolas recognized the speckled pattern on the breast of the bird that had beleaguered every one of his misdeeds his entire life. He had wished that bird ill more than once, but now found himself praying it had finally died peacefully of advanced old age.

It was old, Legolas said to himself firmly.

When he reached Berior's side, his cousin held out the owl for him to see. The index fingers of both his hands tapped the bird, one on its breast and the other underneath a wing. Legolas's whole body tensed. Berior's fingers hovered over the entrance and exit wounds caused by an arrow.

The owl had been shot. Deliberately killed.

"Oh no!" Legolas whispered, echoing Berior's earlier exclamation. His gaze darted from the owl, to Berior and finally to Colloth. The guard's expression was grim.

"What?" Anastor asked. "Someone accidently shot an owl when they were hunting. Or some child shot it playing with a bow. I shot a black squirrel that way once. Noruil tricked me into cooking it and trying to eat it too."

"I suppose it might have been an accident," Berior said, obviously not believing his own words.

"Why climb around to find a hole in a tree to hide it in, if you just accidently killed it?" Legolas replied.

"Why kill an owl on purpose?" Anastor asked.

Legolas pressed his lips together and looked at his friend. "Because Tulus is using it to communicate with the stronghold while he is in Dolgailon's village spying on Manadhien and preparing to arrest her and her servants," he finally decided to answer in a bare whisper.

Anastor's jaw fell open.

"That is why Galithil and Dolgailon are in their village," Legolas added. "And why the King has left the stronghold."

"But," Anastor whispered. Then he cut himself off, looked around them and took a step closer to Legolas until he was standing practically on his toes. "If someone shot the owl, and you think they did it on purpose, that means Manadhien did it because she knows why Tulus is there. She would have to be a fool to not realize why Dolgailon and Galithil are there." He grasped Legolas's tunic front. "Legolas, she will sell them to men. Or just kill them. Like the owl." His expression grew even more panicked and he glanced at Colloth. "If she finds out the King is somewhere near that village, she will kill him!"

"I know that, Anastor," Legolas replied.

"What are we going to do about it?" Anastor whispered.

Legolas remained silent, waiting for Colloth to say they were all returning to the stronghold to report to Hallion and calculating how he would convince him otherwise. They had to act as quickly as possible on this information and Legolas would not be persuaded that the best course of action was to waste time returning to the stronghold.

Colloth said nothing. He only looked at Legolas. His face showed open concern, granted, but that might be as much in response to the threat against the King as it was to the idea of Legolas involving himself deeper in this growing disaster.

"I recommend, since we are so close to the patrol's camp, we go there to see there is someone in it we can trust to carry a message to Dolgailon," Legolas said. "Padanil, possibly, if we can catch him again. And," he directed himself to Colloth, "if you can think of anyway to manage it, we need to get this information to the King."

"Agreed," Colloth said. "Stay close," he added. Without any further conversation, he moved off through the trees, heading south.

* * *

It felt odd to sit with his back to the plain, propped up against his pack, watching the forest. An age ago, when Thranduil was nothing more than one of his king's captains patrolling the borders, he would have sat with his back to the forest, confident nothing dangerous would approach him from inside his home. Danger came from without, not within. And elves were his allies, not his enemies. And choosing to hunt an elf to possibly kill him was unthinkable.

No so now.

A field mouse skittered across his outstretched ankle, making Thranduil jump before he could stop himself. He tried not to exhale so forcefully that Conuion or Engwe would be alerted, but knew his efforts were in vain. His guard smirked at him and his uncle rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Let a grass snake slither up your trouser leg and you will scream like an elleth," he whispered to Conuion.

Conuion only nodded at him once, slowly, still smirking.

A low whistle sounded just off to their south.

As one, Thranduil, Engwe and Conuion shifted to lie flat on their stomachs in the tall grass, each drawing and nocking an arrow as they did. They watched for any movements in the direction the sound came from.

The mouse crept over Thranduil's wrist. He twitched it away. It clawed its way up his shirt onto his shoulder, scurried the length of his outstretched arm and perched on his bow hand. Thranduil glared at it. Then he frowned, realization dawning. "Hold," he whispered.

Conuion glanced back at him, brows raised, but he obeyed, lowering his own bow and calling the signal for Pendurion and Belloth to also stand down.

"Have you lost your mind, Thranduil?" Engwe whispered, but he also lowered his bow.

The mouse set up a loud squeaking. Loud, at least, against the relative quiet on the plain.

Conuion looked with alarm between it and Thranduil and sank lower to the ground.

Within moments a brown robed figure emerged from the tree line, moving cautiously, but making fussing noises as his eyes darted back and forth.

"Oh!" Conuion breathed. He sat up and then stood.

Thranduil did the same.

Engwe followed suit, muttering something Thranduil was certain he was better off not hearing.

The Brown's eyes lit up upon seeing them. "My lord Thranduil!" he exclaimed in a perfectly normal tone of voice, walking forward, arms out, as if to embrace the king.

Belloth and Pendurion appeared from no where and pounced on him. "Sshh!" they both hissed.

"Do you want every orc in the forest to know we are here?" Conuion whispered, stepping in front of Thranduil. Engwe took a step closer to Thranduil's back, his arrow once again nocked.

The bearded figure winced slightly and he looked behind himself. Then he turned back to Thranduil and pointed towards the forest. "But they are all in there. Just south of the village," he said, hurrying over to the king. His eyes grew wide when he said 'village.' "I was coming to look for someone. A warrior. To warn them. And ask for help. Orcs are massing near the village Lord Aradunnon once lived in. And near the eastern border as well, my allies tell me." He stuck out a foot from under his robes and the little grey mouse climbed up his leg and disappeared.

Thranduil took a step closer to him. "How many orcs?" he asked. Galithil was in that village. And an attack, at this moment, seemed too well timed to be coincidence. His heart began to pound a little harder in his chest.

"Too many," Radagast answered. "And still more are coming. Worse still: they have elves with them. Elves! Four elves are with the orcs near Lord Aradunnon's village. Two of them I saw speaking to the orcs. I saw that with my own eyes!" he emphasized, as if knowing no one would believe him.

Thranduil did.

"The other two are hiding in the trees," Radagast continued. "My friends tell me another elf is amongst the orcs in the east, with another two in the trees. What does this mean, my lord? Why would elves speak with orcs?"

"Three elves amongst the orcs, besides the ones in the trees?" Thranduil asked. "Two here, and also one on the eastern border? Are you certain about the one in the east? And that you saw two speaking to orcs here?"

Radagast nodded. "Surely you are here to help those poor elves," he said, watching Thranduil closely, waiting for a positive response.

"I am here to manage them," Thranduil assured him. Explaining this to Radagast would be well-nigh impossible. "But I had counted on them all being together. And being much further south than here..."

"That they were," Radagast interrupted. "They and the orcs with them moved north in the last few days. The last three days."

That made Thranduil's breath come with a little more difficulty. The orcs and elves began to move exactly at the same time he left the stronghold? That could not possibly be a coincidence? At least Radagast's appearance saved him a dangerous and fruitless trip south to search for them where they no longer were. That, at least, was luck. "Can you show me where they are now?" he asked.

Radagast nodded. "Of course."

Thranduil forced himself to smile and laid a hand on Radagast's shoulder. "Thank you," he said.

Then he guided his guest to sit down in their camp and seated himself next to him, absorbed in thought. What was the meaning of the extra elf now with Fuilin and Glilavan? Who could that be? One of Manadhien's other servants, who had been in the village and now had left it? Another spy they did not know about? A prisoner? And why had they split up and moved, some straight north and some east? Another attack, like the ones Dolgailon already thwarted, no doubt. Most likely the backup plan Hallion warned Manadhien would have.

Hopefully when Hurion returned from the village, he would have an answer for at least some of these questions. Hopefully he would confirm Dolgailon's warrior were already prepared for the attack.

At least Tulus's spies were with his enemies to make sure they did not escape the forest. Better still, Radagast had promised to show him safe paths to find them. They would be arrested soon. Just as planned. And since Hurion carried orders to Dolgailon to arrest Manadhien on the morrow, this would be over soon.

* * *

Manadhien sat in her talan, watching the lanterns flicker in the distant courtyard where the evening dancing was in full swing. Her thoughts were not on merrymaking. A knock on her talan door preceded the entrance of Mornil and then Gwathron. She sat up a little straighter. "What news?" she asked, a smile already forming on her lips. Their expressions as they rushed in were clearly excited.

"Our scouts found the King," Mornil whispered. "Exactly where our spy in the stronghold said he would be. He is just outside the western edge of the forest, less than half a day's travel south of here. Engwe and three guards are with him. So is some old man. The scouts await your orders, my lady."

Manadhien's smile faded. "Who is the old man?"

Mornil and Gwathron both shrugged. "They do not know," Mornil said.

"Some wayfarer," Gwathron added. "Dressed in rags. Thranduil probably arrested the poor fool for eating a mushroom in his precious forest."

Manadhien waved a hand. "No matter. Kill him along with the guards. I want Thranduil alive. And Engwe. I think I will enjoy watching Thranduil lose his dear father's brother. I want to see that myself. Take them now."

"It will be done immediately, my lady," Mornil replied gleefully, but he did not move to leave. "First, we have another stroke of luck to report. While the scouts were searching for the King, they caught one of his guard traveling from the forest border to this village. He carried no written message and, like Tulus, he could not be compelled to speak, but whatever message he was to carry to Dolgailon, it will not reach him. That could only be good news for us." Now Mornil smiled so broadly he might have been mistaken for mad. "Perhaps Dolgailon does not even know the King is nearby."

"Perhaps," Manadhien agreed. "What of the orcs? Are they in position?"

Gwathron nodded. "The ones in the east are ready to attack Maethroness's village. Fuilin is with them. I ordered a legion of orcs up from the south. They will be here by midday tomorrow. The ones diverting here from the east should arrive before nightfall tomorrow. I ordered their captains to drive them all night and all day. We could be ready to attack this village by this time tomorrow."

"Attack Maethorness's village first," she ordered. "As soon as you can get word to Fuilin. Tonight while the village sleeps would suit me best. Raze it. That should draw the patrols nicely. Have the orcs move straight into this village the moment they arrive. Command that attack yourself, Gwathron. Remember, I want Dolgailon alive. I will manage Galithil myself. And I want as few deaths to the people here-the ones loyal to me-as possible, so keep tight rein over those disgusting creatures. Once the King's family has been dealt with, order the orcs to withdraw and return to help me manage these villages. With luck, the people will be ready to name a new ruling house in this forest by the time the sun sets tomorrow."

Gwathron and Mornil nodded and rushed so eagerly from the room that they barely bowed.

Manadhien disregarded their lack of courtesy. Soon, she thought. Soon.

* * *

AN: My apologies this time to Abraham Lincoln for the chapter title. Thank you for your patience. The pieces are now in place and the battle will be joined in the next chapter.

elleth - female elf

Adar (S.) - Father

Atar (Q.) - Father

Naneth/nans (S.) - Mother/mum

Emme (Q.) - mummy


End file.
